«€€€ 


1 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


MILL     AGENT 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OV 


"OPPOSITE    THE    JAIL." 


BOSTON: 

S     A.NT)     YOTJUTG- 

KEW  YORK:  SHELDON  &  CO. 

CINCINNATI:  GBO.  B.  BLANCHARP. 

1864. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

GRAVES  AND  YOUNG, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  TAVERN  AND  ITS  KEEPER 5 

CHAPTER   II. 
THE  NEW  ARRIVAL 19 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION 27 

CHAPTER  IV. 
HAGER 54 

CHAPTER  V. 

PlOUS  GOLDBT 60 

CHAPTER  VI. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY  —   105 

CHAPTER  VIIL 
THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM 120 

CHAPTER  IX. 
WHAT  THE  COLONEL  THOUGHT  OF  THE  SABBATH 144 


1670556 


IV  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  FASHIONABLE  PARTY 161 

CHAPTER  XL 
HAGEB  AT  PBATEE  AND  WHAT  HER  FATHER  THOUGHT  OF  IT.  190 

CHAPTER  XH. 
A  MYSTERIOUS  DISPENSATION 198 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
GRANDE  THE  DOUBTER 211 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  GARDENER'S  STORY 230 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  GREAT  REFORMATION 244 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  DAY  IN  THE  WOODS 270 

CHAPTER  XVII, 
A  NEW  FEATURE — 280 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
DROWNED 302 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  RESTORATION .....309 

CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  COLONEL'S  RESOLVE  Pui  INTO  PRACTICE 325 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  NEW  ORDER  OF  THINGS 338 

«.  % 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
GOOD  TIDINGS 349 


THE  MILL  AGENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  TAVERN  AND  ITS  KEEPER. 


SAINT  dozed  in  his  arm  chair. 
Before  the  picturesque  old  tavern  the 
elms  stood  statue-like,  letting  the  light  down 
in  mosaic  fragments  through  their  pensile 
branches.  The  aspens  made  a  quivering  show 
of  silver-lined  leaves.  Hill  and  valley, 
meadow  and  orchard,  softened  and  bright 
ened  by  the  mid-day  sun,  seemed  indulging 
in  completest  rest. 

Clifton  Locks  was  then  —  is  now  in  some 
degree  —  a  quiet  by-town,  seven  miles  from 
the  rail  road,  and  through  which,  once  a  day, 
the  old-fashioned  stage  coach  rattled  clumsily, 


6  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


conveying  passengers  into  the  interior.  Its 
most  conspicuous  buildings  were  the  Leffing- 
well  mills — three  stately  edifices,  bristling  with 
numerous  windows,  and  the  quaint  old  Coates 
House — a  revolutionary  reminder,  now  known 
as  Saint's  Inn,  not  from  any  peculiar  sanctity 
that  attached  to  the  place,  but  merely  because 
it  was  kept  by  a  man  named  Tristarn  Saint. 
For  twenty  years  he  had  been  tavern-keeper 
in  Clifton  Locks.  He  was  an  easy  going 
man,  rather  methodical  in  his  habits,  very  set 
in  his  opinions  and  quite  averse  to  going  out 
of  a  regular  routine  in  anything.  Tristam 
Saint  was  far  from  being  what  his  name  de 
noted.  What  his  opinions  were  upon  all 
questions  of  that  kind,  nobody  knew ;  for 
there  were  none  in  Clifton  Locks  who  ever 
talked  of  the  matter.  There  were  no  church 
edifices,  or  societies,  within  four  miles,  and 
the  very  few  who  attended  the  old  village 
meeting  house  at  Hyde  well,  went  thither 
in  the  family  wagon,  returning  in  time  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  the  Sabbath  more  to 


THE  TAVERN  AND  ITS  KEEPER.       7 

their  liking,  in  visiting,  in  sports,  or  in 
gathering  round  the  bar  in  the  old  Saint's 
tavern,  whose  proprietor  did  a  flourishing 
business  on  that  particular  day.  Tristam 
Saint  was  a  large  man,  and  one  whose  face, 
had  it  been  kept  in  repair  by  the  constant 
polish  of  refinement,  or  the  beautifying  touch 
of  religious  culture,  would  have  been  strik 
ingly  handsome.  As  it  was,  there  hung  a 
stolidity  of  expression  over  the  whole  coun 
tenance,  that  only  cleared  away  under  the 
influence  of  strong  excitement,  sufficiently  to 
show  what  the  man  might  have  been.  He 
generally  sat  in  his  bar-room,  ready  to  ex 
change  words  with  each  new  comer — and 
when  alone,  with  chair  tilted  back — he  was 
oblivious  to  all  sense  of  sight  or  hearing,  for 
he  slept  easily. 

On  the  day  in  which  our  story  commences, 
he  had  stepped  from  his  dining-room,  in  the 
same  wing  of  the  building  with  the  bar,  and 
placing  his  cushioned  arm-chair  in  its  easiest 
position,  had  taken  his  seat  in  dignified  con- 


8  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

tentment,  soon  dozing,  as  was  his  wont.  The 
little  room  had  not  been  much  visited  that 
day,  for  the  farmers  and  mill  hands  were 
busier  than  usual,  consequently  the  sanded 
floor  had  not  yet  lost  its  smoothness  and 
whiteness.  The  counter,  its  red  top  well 
varnished  and  well  kept,  glistened  in  the  red 
der  sun.  The  tumblers  stationed  on  a  Japan 
tray,  stood  glistening,  and  inverted  round 
the  portly  frame  of  a  cut-glass  decanter ;  and 
the  blue  and  black  casks  showed  evil  heads, 
under  which  lurked  the  gilded  ruin  of  the  old 
tavern.  For  the  rest,  all  was  well  enough. 
Tristam  Saint  had  a  neat  body  for  a  wife, 
who  kept  the  curtains  snow-white,  and  the 
window-glass  from  speck  or  flaw  of  dirt.  No 
dust  lodged  whenever  she  moved — even  the 
odious  spirit-casks  owed  their  immaculate 
lustre  to  her  love  of  cleanliness.  The  walls 
were  semi-annually  white-washed,  and  the 
heavy  rafters  overhead,  though  long  guiltless 
of  paint,  were  equally  so  of  cobwebs  or 
dust. 


THE  TAVERN  AND  ITS  KEEPER.       9 

A  light  step  sounded  on  the  door-sill.  The 
inn-keeper  looked  lazily  up.  It  is  not  likely 
that  he  had  ever  read  Roger's  Italy — or 
thought  with  him — 

"  Her  face 

So  lovely,  yet  so  arch,  so  full  of  mirth, 
The  overflowing  of  an  innocent  heart!  " 

but  his  eye  grew  softer  as  it  met  that  of  the 
beautiful,  fairy-like  creature  standing  there, 
smiling. 

"Ah  Toddles  !"  he  exclaimed,  his  dull  eye 
brightening,  "  off  to  the  mill  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father ;  good  afternoon,"  she  re 
plied,  merrily. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Toddles,"  he  answered. 

"Now,  father,  you  promised  you  wouldn't 
call  me  Toddles;  I  don't  like  it,"  she  cried, 
an  incipient  shadow  on  her  brow. 

"Well,  well,  Hager,  then — be  off,  child, 
and  let  me  get  my  nap,"  responded  the  tavern- 
keeper  good  naturedly ;  and  the  girl,  with  a 
laugh  and  a  hop,  disappeared,  taking  her 
direction  towards  the  mills. 


10  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

It  was  getting  near  three  before  there  were 
signs  of  active  life  in  the  vicinity  of  Saint's 
tavern.  The  weather  had  grown  cooler,  and 
wagoners  now  and  then  came  in  to  slake  their 
thirst.  Presently  a  gray  mare  cantered  up  to 
the  door ;  a  tall,  portly,  bluff  personage  flung 
himself  from  the  saddle,  and  entered  the  inn. 
He  was  a  man  past  fifty,  and  iron-gray  hair 
showed  under  the  broad  brim  of  his  shapeless 
Kossuth  hat ;  his  whiskers  were  trim  and  gray, 
his  eyes,  cool  and  resolute  in  their  glance, 
clear,  and  of  a  sparkling  blue.  Deep  lines 
from  the  margin  of  the  bold  features  to  the 
square,  determined  chin,  seemed  to  betoken 
force  of  character,  as  well  as  much  thought. 
His  dress  was  a  buff  waistcoat,  high,  glossy, 
black  stock,  and  a  blue  dress-coat,  garnished 
with  bright  buttons.  His  boots  were  carefully 
polished,  and  straps  confined  his  nether  gar 
ments  tightly  beneath  them.  He  wore  riding 
gloves  of  untanned  leather,  and  held  a  whip, 
whose  handle  was  highly  ornamented,  in  hie 
hand.  Add  to  this  an  elaborately  ruffled  shirt- 


THE  TAVERN  AXD  ITS  KEEPER.     11 

bosom,  and  you  have  a  gentleman  of  the  old 
school  in  the  person  of  Colonel  Leffingwell ; 
the  only  modern  part  of  his  attire  being  the 
black  Kossuth  before  mentioned,  which  he 
always  wore  when  travelling. 

Tristam  Saint  met  this  man  with  a  deferen 
tial  bow. 

"  Ah,  Saint,  how  d'y  do?  how's  business?" 
queried  the  colonel,  walking  directly,  as  was 
his  custom,  to  the  bar. 

"Tolerable  brisk,  thankee,  Colonel,"  replied 
the  landlord,  waiting  on  his  customer. 

"  Well,  Saint,"  the  colonel  had  thrown  him 
self  into  the  only  easy  chair  and  flung  his  hat 
on  the  counter,  as  he  sat  eyeing  his  horse 
which  was  restless  ;  "  Clifton  Locks  has  gone 
on  about  as  usual,  I  suppose ;  no  fires ;  no 
robberies  ?  It  makes  a  man  uneasy  who  owns 
valuable  property  to  stay  away  from  its  vicinity 
longer  than  a  night.  One  has  all  sorts  of 
visions  of  burning  houses,  especially  mills ; 
or  trouble  of  some  sort.  By  the  way,  do  you 
hear  anything  about  the  overseer  ?  is  he  gen 
erally  liked,  do  you  think?" 


12  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

"  I  should  judge  he  was,"  replied  the  tavern- 
keeper. 

"A  good,  capable  man,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Drink  much,  think  ?  You  know  it  won't  do 
to  encourage  any  immoderation  in  that  direc 
tion." 

"  Scarcely  touches  the  thing,  sir." 

"  Ah !  glad  to  hear  it,"  replied  the  colonel, 
with  a  half  sigh  of  relief.  "  Now  we  Ve  got  a 
pretty  likely  fellow  in  that  position,  and  the 
prospect  of  another  coming,  we  shall  get 
along  admirably.  I  wonder  what  the  opera 
tives  think  of  Grande?"  he  added,  thought- 
fully. 

"Toddles,  that  is,  Hager,  my  little  girl, 
likes  him  very  much;  says  he  is  kind  and 
polite  to  them  all." 

"  Ah  !  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I  felt  fearful ; 
it's  a  difficult  post  for  a  young  fellow  like 
Austin  Grande  ;  but  then  you  see,  he  has  an 
excellent  mother,  and  when  a  boy  has  a  good 
mother,  somehow  it  seems  a  guaranty  for  his 
future.  By  the  way,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 


THE   TAVERN   AND   ITS   KEEPER.  13 


Coit  came  along  to-night,  the  new  agent ;  what 
can  you  do  for  him?" 

"  Really,  colonel,"  the  tavern-keeper  paus 
ed,  thoughtfully,  "  I  don't  know  where  I  can 
keep  him ;  there  is  n't  a  single  room  in  the 
house." 

"That's  bad,"  interrupted  Colonel  Leffing- 
well,  hurriedly.  "None  of  the  boarding- 
houses  round  here  would  exactly  do  for  him, 
and  the  private  families  have  accommodated 
as  many  as  they  can.  "  I'm  sorry,  sorry — 
can't  you  manage  some  way  ?  " 

"Don't  see  how  I  can,  colonel,"  returned 
the  tavern-keeper.  "At  any  rate,"  he  added 
a  moment  after,  "  if  I  can't  make  room,  I'll 
get  him  a  place  till  I  can." 

"  Do  so  ; "  the  colonel  had  risen  and  was 
now  pulling  the  whip  cord  through  his  fingers  ; 
"  you  will  oblige  me  very  much.  By  all  ac 
counts  young  Coit  is  a  superior  man,  a  man 
of  sterling  principle,  they  say,  and  I  shall  not 
probably  lose  so  much  money  through  his 
fingers  as  I  did  through  Hunt's,  the  reprobate  1 


14  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


You've  heard  nothing  from  Hose  Hedge,  I  sup 
pose?" 

«  Nothing,  sir,"  replied  Tristam.  "  I  saw 
Miss  Mary  riding,  yesterday.  She  seemed 
bright  as  a  button,  sir.  Master  Merric  came 
down  with  her  to  hire  the  long  room — so  I 
suppose  they'll  have  great  doings  Thursday 
night." 

"O,  I'd  forgotten — yes,  indeed — trust  Lin 
coln  Lockers  for  such  things — yes,  they'll 
have  a  gay  party  of  course  ;  they  always  do." 

The  colonel  by  this  time  was  mounting  his 
horse.  It  needed  neither  whip  nor  voice  to 
spur  the  spirited  animal  on,  for  her  face  was 
turned  homeward.  After  his  departure,  cus 
tomers  came  thronging  in  to  the  tavern  bar 
room.  Chairs  and  stools  were  appropriated. 
Smokers  lit  their  pipes,  and  seated  themselves 
on  the  wooden  settees  on  the  outside  of  the 
bar-room ;  the  laugh  and  the  joke,  and  alas  ! 
the  oath  went  up  unrestrained,  for  God  was 
not  honored  in  Clifton  Locks  :  scarcely  known. 
These  smokers  were  soon  surrounded  by  vil- 


THE  TAVERN  AND  ITS  KEEPER.      15 


lageboys,  who  begged  a  whiff,  or  with  corres 
ponding  noises  played  games  of  marbles  and 
tag.  With  the  cooler  breezes  of  waning  day, 
matrons  came  out  of  their  cottages,  sewing  or 
knitting  in  hand,  and  sat  on  steps  underneath 
the  shade  of  tall  trees.  Crickets  began  when 
the  birds  left  off,  and  droned  cheerfully.  The 
whip  cracked,  and  the  hoarse  "  gee  git  up  "  of 
returning  wagoners  sounded  on  the  air.  Pleas 
ant  bustle  and  the  mixed  confusion  of  myriad 
voices  reigned  supreme  until  the  bell  of  the 
nearest  mill  joined  in  with  its  silvery  clang. 
Then  by  scores  came  the  operatives  from  the 
doorway  of  the  mill — young,  old  and  mid 
dle-aged  ;  little  toddling  girls,  bright  eyed 
rosy-cheeked,  carrying  their  shining  kettles. 
Young  maids,  modest  and  shy,  or  saucy,  de 
fiant  and  bold,  flocked  by,  exchanging  words, 
nods  and  smiles  with  those  whom  they  passed. 
Soon  again  the  sound  of  feet  was  hushed ;  it 
was  the  end  of  a  working  day ;  let  the  morrow 
take  care  of  itself.  Only  one  more  incident 
and  this  chapter  is  finished.  There  was  a 


16  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


clatter  of  horse's  hoofs — a  colt,  white  as  snow, 
turned  the  corner,  on  which  sat  Mary  Leffing- 
well,  her  veil  floating  like  a  cloud  around  her 
head.  Following  her  on  a  coal  black  pony 
came  a  boy  of  some  eighteen  years,  his  face 
almost  girlish  in  its  outlines,  and  his  hair 
quite  long  and  curling,  clustering  thickly  on 
his  white  collar  and  against  his  blooming 
cheeks.  These  were  the  pride  of  the  town, 
the  two  beautiful,  only  children  of  Colonel 
Leffingwell.  It  was  said  that  the  boy  was  the 
idol  of  his  invalid  mother ;  while  Mary,  the 
somewhat  haughty,  but  in  reality  a  sensible 
girl,  was  the  pet  of  the  old  colonel.  Rapidly 
they  came  on,  alike,  yet  unlike  ;  her  long  sea- 
green  riding  habit  contrasting  delicately  with 
his  light  linen  suit ;  her  dark  eyes  and  fair, 
colorless  cheek,  with  his  blue  orbs  and  brown 
locks,  that  were  like  his  mother's. 

They  paused  a  moment  at  the  quaint  low 
door-way  of  Saint's  inn,  or  rather  the  boy 
did,  she  moving  onward  very  slowly.  Tris- 
tarn  had  thrown  down  the  s?^ii  that  formed  its 


THE  TAVERN  AXD  ITS  KEEPER.      17 


upper  part,  and  was  leaning  upon  it  in  a  lazy 
way,  with  folded  arms.  The  fair  face  of 
Hager  peeped  from  the  half  closed  blinds 
above ;  the  halo  from  the  setting  sun  threw 
golden  glory  over  the  two  young  equestrians. 

The  boy  bowed — the  landlord  bowed  care 
lessly,  never  lifting  himself. 

"  Mr.  Tristam,  I'll  see  you  about  that  affair 
to-morrow,"  he  said. 

K  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  landlord,  then 
added  :  "  perhaps  you  didn't  know  the  colonel 
is  come — just  gone  an  hour  ago  up  to  Rose 
Hedge." 

A  glad  smile  leaped  from  lips  to  brow  at 
this.  w  You  don't  say ;  has  he  ?"  half  shouted 
the  boy ;  and  hurrying  after  his  sister,  he  told 
her  the  news. 

"There  they  go,  hurry  scurry,"  muttered 
Tristam ;  "  she 's  nigh  twenty,  they  say,  but 
they  neither  of  them  look  more  than  children. 
Well,  the  colonel's  got  a  handsome  family, 
that 's  the  fact ;  what  a  pity  that  his  wife  is 
sick  all  the  time  ! " 


18  THE    MILL    AC  EXT. 


Hager  had  gone  down  stairs,  meanwhile, 
and  was  now  busy  with  the  girls  and  her 
mother  setting  the  table,  while  the  savory 
odor  of  cooked  viands  made  the  air  seem 
pleasanter  to  those  who  lounged  without. 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE    NEW   AEEIVAL. 

tavern-keeper  changed  his  place  to 
the  arm-chair  within ;  by  twos  and  threes 
the  outsiders  had  gone,  until  there  were  left 
only  those  who  were  boarders  at  the  house. 
One  of  these  was  a  young  man  who  sat  some 
what  apart  from  the  rest.  His  arms  were 
folded  over  his  chest,  and  he  was  gazing  ab 
stractedly  westward,  his  eyes  perhaps  riveted 
on  the  dying  glories  of  the  Avondrous  sun- 
tinted  clouds.  His  face  was  that  of  a  resolute 
man.  Keen,  dark  eyes,  deep  set,  looked  out 
from  under  restless  but  thick  brows.  The 
outlines  of  his  face  appeared  td  have  been 
sharpened  and  set  before  their  time,  and  his 
thin  lips  were  ever  and  anon  pressed  together, 
token  of  absorbing  thought.  This  was  Austin 
Grande,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  mill-works  ; 

19 


20  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


a  man  but  yet  twenty-one,  looking  older  by 
three  years  and  wiser  by  ten.  The  others 
were,  one  a  clerk,  in  the  employ  of  the  mill, 
and  several  under  officers ;  two  young  men 
spending  a  college  vacation  at  Clifton  Locks, 
and  one  or  two  married  men  who  had  chosen 
the  beautiful  town  for  a  summer  sojourn  with 
their  families. 

w  Stage  is  behind  time,"  remarked  one  of  the 
boarders,  consulting  his  watch. 

"Not  much,"  said  Austin  Grande,  starting 
from  his  reverie  ;  "I  wonder  if  the  new  agent 
will  come  to-night  ?  Hark  !  there 's  the  horn." 

Presently  the  broad  breasts  of  the  leaders 
appeared,  then  the  yellow-black  front  of  the 
coach,  and  with  a  flourish,  the  driver,  an  old 
leathery-faced  Vermonter,  drove  the  vehicle 
in  splendid  style,  sweeping  round  so  that  it 
went  some  ways  ahead  of  the  door,  now  filled 
by  the  portly  personage  of  the  inn-keeper, 
and  by  a  dexterous  move  backing  the  horses 
till  the  stage  steps  were  opposite  the  old  horse 
block.  The  handsome  bays  stood  patiently, 


THE   \EW   ARRIVAL.    Page  SI. 


THE   KEW   ARRIVAL.  21 

regarding  with  wistful,  sidelong  glances,  the 
old  wooden  trough  nearly  full  of  cool,  fresh 
water,  while  everybody  was  gathered  in  win 
dows  and  hall  to  see  who  had  come. 

One  person,  only,  descended  from  the  stage, 
a  tall,  gentlemanly  looking  man,  dressed  in 
drab  clothes,  who  glanced  about  him  with  a 
rapid  eye  and  pleased  smile,  then  moved  into 
the  house  before  any  one  could  take  a  good 
look  at  him.  His  baggage,  a  small  black 
trunk,  and  two  or  three  boxes,  followed,  and 
the  landlord,  softly  rubbing  his  broad  palms 
together,  confronted  the  stranger  with  a  cour 
teous  bow. 

"Mr.  Coit,  I  presume,"  he  said. 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  responded  the  other, 
taking  off  his  hat,  and  for  a  moment  seating 
himself  with  a  look  of  weariness,  though  the 
smile  still  brightened  his  lips. 

What  volumes  the  displacing  of  a  man's 
head-covering  adds  to  his  face  !  Surmounted 
by  the  hat,  the  countenance  of  this  stranger 
was  pleasant,  but  not  remarkable.  Now,  with 


22  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

the  soft,  thick  hair  pushed  back  from  a  fore 
head  full  of  noble  expression,  the  whole  face 
took  a  higher  tone  and  commanded  instanta 
neous  respect,  if  not  veneration.  Young 
Grande,  who  had  sauntered  into  the  room, 
seemed  struck  with  this  new  countenance. 
He  glanced  toward  it  eagerly,  and  the  almost 
painful  strain  that  appeared  always  to  regulate 
his  features,  passed  away,  leaving  only  admira 
tion  in  its  place. 

*  Can  I  have  a  room,  landlord  ?  "  asked  the 
new  comer ;  and  his  very  voice  was  musical 
as  if  some  undercurrent  of  melody  were  keep 
ing  perpetual  rythm  in  his  soul. 

Tin  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  the  landlord, 
beginning  to  apologize,  w  but  the  fact  is,  the 
house  is  full,  and  I  shall  have  to  find  you 
other  accommodations  for  to-night." 

*  Mr.  Saint,  he  is  welcome  to-my  room,  for 
the  present,  at  any  rate,"  said  young  Grande, 
speaking  quickly  and  eagerly.     w  After  such 
a  long  journey  he  must  need  rest." 

Guilford  Coit  looked  up,   and  that  sweet 


THE   NEW   ARRIVAL.  23 


smile  broke  over  his  face  again,  as  he  met 
the  young  man's  eyes,  and  the  landlord  made 
them  acquainted. 

K I  am  indeed  very  much  fatigued,"  he  said, 
"and  need,  as  you  see,  some  ablution  after  the 
dust  of  travel,  but  I  should  be  sorry  to  dis 
commode  you." 

"  You  are  perfectly  welcome,"  replied  Aus 
tin  Grande,  who  seemed  somehow  to  have 
grown  younger  all  at  once.  "  Let  me  take 
you  there,  sir,"  he  added,  leading  the  way. 
In  another  moment  Austin  Grande  was  down 
stairs  again,  leaning  against  the  window,  deep 
in  thought.  Suddenly  he  spoke  unconsciously 
aloud, 

w  The  first  man  I  ever  liked,  at  first  sight. 
O !  the  difference  between  him  and  that  cur, 
Hunt !  I  wish  he'd  room  with  me ;  if  he  will, 
he  shall." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  bell  rang  for  sup 
per.  The  dining  room,  like  everything  else 
in  this  public  house,  was  a  model  of  neatness. 
Hager  Saint,  an  untaught  poet,  always  placed 


24  THE   MILL  AGJEXT. 


garden-flowers  on  the  table,  and  nowhere 
could  be  found  whiter  clothes  than  those  that 
graced  this  pleasant  dining  hall.  To  be  sure, 
the  room  was  furnished  in  the  plainest  man 
ner,  but  the  sun  yet  lingered,  and  streaming 
through  the  lilac  bushes  and  the  elm  branches, 
made  golden  pictures  on  the  wall. 

Nearly  all  were  seated  at  the  table  when 
the  new  comer  appeared,  and  every  eye  seem 
ed  attracted  toward  him.  To  such  a  face  as 
his,  granted  but  to  few,  the  most  hardened 
heart  in  the  world  might  have  opened.  There 
was  a  mysterious  sweetness  traced  over  all 
those  features,  a  something  set  upon  that  brow 
that  seemed  to  distinguish  him  from  the  ordi 
nary  masses  of  men.  He  sat  down ;  his  place 
happened  to  be  at  tfce  extreme  end  of  the  long 
table ;  cast  a  rapid  glance  from  face  to  face, 
all  intent  upon  him,  and  with  one  of  his  rare 
smiles,  he  lifted  his  hands,  clasped  them  to 
gether,  saying, 

"Father,  for  these  blessings,  for  thy  jour 
neying  mercies,  for  thy  holy  love,  for  the  dear 


THE  NEW  ARRIVAL.  25 


gift  of  thine  only  son,  for  all  these,  may  we 
be  truly  thankful,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ 
Our  Lord,  Amen." 

Consternation  would  be  a  weak  word  by 
which  to  express  the  tumult  that  followed. 
Xot  in  language,  not  in  action,  but  in  the 
minds  of  all  who  sat  there.  The  landlady, 
who  was  just  in  the  act  of  raising  the  tea-urn, 
set  it  down  again,  her  face  turning  white  as  a 
sheet.  The  half-suppressed  smile  lingered  on 
more  lips  than  one,  while  several  were  so  con 
fused,  they  appeared  not  to  know  for  what 
purpose  they  had  come  together.  An  ominous 
frown  blackened  the  features  of  the  landlord ; 
little  Hager  seemed  almost  terrified  and  gazed 
from  the  stranger  to  her  father,  as  if  she  did 
not  exactly  know  whether  to  cry  or  not. 
Austin  Grande  sat  with  eyes  bent  upon  his 
plate,  his  thin  lip  curling  with  something  like 
a  sneer,  though  a  suspicious  glitter  on  his  eye 
lashes  told  how  powerfully  that  simple  bless- 
sing  craved,  had  moved  him;  his  mother's 
voice  spoke  through  it  in  those  sweet  tones. 


26  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


But  he  who  had  been  the  cause  of  all  this 
commotion,  was  the  first  to  attempt  its  removal. 
His  pleasant  tones  betrayed  no  astonishment 
at  the  blank  silence  that  followed.  With  the 
grace  of  a  natural  gentleman,  he  passed  what 
ever  was  in  his  way,  speaking  now  to  this  one, 
now  to  that ;  and  the  ladies  stopped  toying 
with  their  spoons,  the  landlady  lifted  the  tea- 
urn,  though  her  hand  shook,  from  some  sup 
pressed  emotion ;  while  young  Grande,  taking 
another  glance  at  the  fine  face,  with  its  lumi 
nous  eyes,  and  innocent  smile,  sighed  quietly. 

It  was  beautiful  to  see  how  Guilford  Coit 
held  the  attention  even  of  those  wlio  were 
disposed  to  avoid  him.  His  low  but  ringing, 
healthy-sounding  laugh,  was  oftenest  heard  at 
the  board,  and  the  very  youngest  there  seem 
ed  to  listen  and  long  for  his  voice.  Still  that 
innovation  could  not  be  forgotten. 

Of  all  the  four  thousand  inhabitants  of  Clif 
ton  Locks,  not  one  of  those  placed  over  fam 
ilies,  ever  raised  hands  for  blessings  on  God's 
daily-given  food. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION. 

ITH  your  kind  permission,  then,  I 
am  to  room  with  you  to-night ;"  said 
Guilford  Coit,  rising  from  his  seat  by  the  doo'. , 
where  young  Grande  and  himself  had  been 
sitting,  talking  in  the  moonlight. 

The  evening  was  glorious.  The  grand  old 
elms  stood  motionless  in  the  mild,  soft  light, 
their  black  shadows  lay  as  if  cut  in  ebony 
across  the  white  road. 

"You  are  very  welcome  to  do  so,"  replied 
Austin  Grande,  as  he  too  arose,  and  after 
glancing  once  in  the  calm  face  of  his  compan 
ion,  turned  his  meody  countenance  heaven 
ward. 

"  What  fine  evenings  we  are  having,  now," 
he  said ;  "  it  seems  as  if  the  stars  were  un 
usually  brilliant,  to-night." 


28  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

"  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  my  God," 
murmured  Guilford  Coit,  in  a  tone  of  solemn 
pleasure.  "Oh!  my  friend,  what  splendors, 
must  be  in  reserve  for  us,  His  children,  if  He 
has  made  this  poor  earth  so  beautiful !" 

Austin  ventured  no  reply,  only  set  his  lips 
more  firmly  together,  and  made  a  slight,  ner 
vous  motion  with  his  shoulders. 

"  God  never  enters  my  soul  so  fully,"  coj  - 
tinned  Guilford  Coit,  "  as  when  it  is  lifted  up 
by  the  contemplation  of  such  scenes  as  this. 
What  majesty  in  His  being  !  How  matchless 
His  mercy — His  unbounded  love  I  " 

"Mercy!"  muttered  Austin  Grande,  the 
word  seemed  to  spring  from  his  lips,  uncon 
sciously. 

Guilford  Coit,  turned  suddenly,  and  fixed 
his  dark  eyes  on  the  troubled  face  beside  him. 

"Do  you  doubt  His  mercy  ?"  he  asked,  ten 
derly. 

"  I  doubt  everything,"  was  the  dull  reply. 

"O,  no,"  said  the  new  agent  in  a  cheerful 
voice ;  K  it  seems  you  had  confidence  enough 


THE  LANDLORD'S  TIESOLUTIOX.         29 


in  me,  to  offer  me  a  lodging  with  you.     How 
do  you  know  what  sort  of  a  man  I  am  ?  " 

Austin  Grande  looked  up,  met  the  full  lumi 
nous  eye.  The  troubled  cloud  cleared  away, 
the  light  of  a  trusting  confidence  shone  in  that 
glance. 

"I  can't  doubt  you,  some  way,"  he  half 
whispered. 

"Then,  don't  doubt  the  great  God,  whose 
servant,  I  am,"  responded  Guilford  Coit, 
smiling  back  upon  him ;  "  but,  excuse  me,  I 
never  allow  myself  late  hours." 

"I  will  come  up,  presently,"  said  Austin 
Grande ;  he  dimly  foresaw  that  the  stranger 
would  wish,  for  a  time,  to  be  undisturbed. 

Guilford  Coit  went  into  the  chamber  alone. 
It  was  a  small,  white-washed  room,  but 
scrupulously  clean.  The  windows  were  hung 
with  half-curtains  of  dimity ;  one  narrow  strip 
of  home-made  carpeting,  stretched  across  the 
floor.  The  agent  placed  the  little  light  upon 
the  table,  took  from  his  trunk  a  bible,  and 
knelt  quietJy  down.  Not  long  after,  Austin 


30  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

Grande  came  up.  The  light  was  still  burn 
ing.  The  little  bible,  well  worn,  lay  open,  a 
mark  against  the  page.  Something  prompted 
the  young  man  to  take  a  closer  look  at  the 
holy  volume,  and  his  eye  caught  simply  the 
words : 

w  What  is  that  to  theef  follow  thou  me." 
He  started  as  if  stung.  A  look  of  defiance 
passed  over  his  face,  instantly  succeeded  by 
an  expressio'n  that  seemed  almost  hopeless. 
He  paused  for  a  moment  before  the  bed  where 
Guilford  Coit  lay  sleeping. 

"What  a  glorious  face  that  is  !  "  he  thought 
to  himself.  "How  it  attracts  me!  What 
peace  rests  upon  every  feature !  Likely 
enough  his  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places. 
He  has  had  no  terrible  temptations  to  encoun 
ter;  no  bitter,  living  trouble  to  cloud  his 
days.  It  is  easy  for  him  to  trust  in  God ; 
easy  for  him  to  be  what  he  undoubtedly  is,  a  ' 
Christian."  There  was  no  bending  of  the 
knee,  no  prayer  spoken,  no  sweet  confidence 
between  this  young  man  and  his  Maker — but 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          31 


the  words  followed  him  even  into  the  world  of 
dreams,  "What  is  that  to  thee,  follow  thou 
me." 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  a  conference  over 
the  kitchen  fire.  The  bar-room  was  tended 
on  evenings  by  one  of  the  hired  men,  for 
Tristam  was  fond  of  his  ease,  and  generally 
sat  and  smoked,  in  the  large,  comfortable 
kitchen  after  the  girls  were  gone  to  bed.  On 
this  night  he  had  been  unwontedly  roused  by 
the  blessing  asked  at  his  table. 

"If  it  wasn't  that  I  promised  him,  the  fel 
low  shouldn't  sleep  here  to-night,"  said  Tris 
tam,  biting  at  the  end  of  his  pipe.  "I  should 
like  to  know  what  right  he  had  to  bring  his 
cant  into  another  man's  house  ?  He  might  at 
least  have  asked  if  'twould  be  agreeable.  I 
don't  like  him.  He's  one  of  your  pious  fanat 
ic  sort;  I  wont  have  him  praying  over  the 
vittles." 

"O,  Tristam  !  "  murmured  his  wife,  who  sat 
knitting  a  white  stocking,  "Somehow  it  done 
me  good.  I  haven't  heard  a  prayer  before»  as 


32  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


I  know  on,  for  forty  year.  I  just  remember 
when  father  did  that  same  thing,  and  he  was 
counted  a  good  man.  Why  you  don't  know 
how  it  came  over  me  ;  I  thought  I  should  sink 
to  the  floor." 

"Pshaw!"  muttered  Tristam,  sulkily,  "a 
woman's  whim.  Don't  you  see  what  it  would 
come  to,  if  I  kept  the  fellow  here?  Not  a 
blessed  boarder  could  I  depend  on.  Who 
wants  to  hear  a  parcel  of  Bible  words  when 
they  set  down  to  vittles  ?  I  tell  you  it  will 
ruin  the  reputation  of  the  house.  People 
comes  here  because  it's  free  and  easy ;  no  set 
ways  or  set  rules.  Besides,  if  he's  one  of  the 
reg'lar  pious  ones,  he'll  be  down  on  my  keep 
ing  bar,  and  if  he  don't  talk  to  me,  he  will  to 
the  boarders,  and  perhaps  go  to  thinking  he 
can  reform  things.  Let  him  try  it.  If  folks 
in  this  village  don't  make  it  too  hot  for  him  to 
stay  here,  I  miss  my  guess.  Who  cares  for 
prayers  here?  Who  cares  for  meetius? 
Don't  we  enjoy  ourselves  just  as  we  please, 
without  no  minister  to  come  poking  his  pale 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          33 

face  in  to  tell  us  we're  all  going  to  ruin  ?  I 
say  I  wont  keep  him.  Let  Col.  Leffingwell 
find  a  place  for  him ;  if  anybody  needs  prayers 
and  them  things,  I'm  sure  he  does,  if  what 
folks  say  is  true." 

Tristam  knocked  the  ashes  spitefully  out  of 
his  pipe,  and  proceeded  to  fill  it  again. 

"But  Tristam,"  said  his  wife  gently,  "there 
was  a  time  once  —  " 

"O,  you  be  quiet,"  interrupted  the  tavern- 
keeper,  impatiently,  "I  know  you'll  say  that  I 
was  under  conviction,  as  they  call  it,  but  that 
was  when  I  was  green.  And  'twas  hah0  caus 
ed  by  folks  appealing  to  my  vanity,  and  say 
ing  what  a  proper  minister  I'd  make,  and 
'cause  my  heart  was  tender  after  the  death  of 
mother,  but  I've  got  bravely  over  that." 

Hulda  Saint,  patient  woman,  only  sighed. 

"At  any  rate,  he  can't  stop  here." 

"O  !  Tristam,  don't  say  that." 

"I  do  say  it ;   I'll  stick  to  it." 

"O  !  husband,  you  can't  think  how  different 
I  feel  since  I  know  that  a  real,  pious,  praying 


34  THE  MILL   AGENT. 

man  is  under  our  roof.  "We're  both  gettin'  in 
years,  Tristam,  and  to  my  mind  this  isn't  just 
the  way  to  go  on ;  never  thinkin'  of  God  or 
heaven,  or  eternity.  I  don't  feel  satisfied,'' 
she  continued,  using  more  energy  as  she  saw 
her  husband  was  on  the  point  of  interrupting 
her ;  "my  mind  ain't  easy,  and  it's  hard  to  get 
light  in  this  place,  especially  in  a  tavern,  where 
one  has  to  go  through  with  so  much  work. 
Now,  Tristam,  don't  you  refuse  to  let  that 
man  stay  here,  for  my  sake.  He'll  have  to 
eat  his  meals  by  himself  in  the  morning,  and 
I'm  sure  he  won't  mind  if  we  change  the  din 
ner  hour,  and  for  supper  let  him  have  his  way. 
I'll  talk  with  the  boarders,  and  if  they  don't 
care,  why  should  you  or  I? " 

"No  use,  wife.  I  tell  you  he'll  be  down  on 
us,  in  every  thing  we  do,  and  then,  there's  the 
bar.  I—" 

"Tristam,"  said  his  wife,  earnestly,  "you 
know  we  never  kept  no  bar  before  colonel 
Leffingwell  set  his  mills  agoing.  It  isn't  your 
bar,  you  only  get  so  much  on  all  the  liquors 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.         35 

you  sell,  and  to  my  thinking,  we've  never  got 
along  so  well,  since  we  began  it.  Look  at 
that  poor  gentleman,  who  only  came  here  six 
months  ago,  (and  I'm  sure  he's  a  gentleman, 
and  I'm  sure  his  poor  daughter  is  a  lady)  twice, 
he's  tried  to  murder  himself,  after  he's  got 
liquor  from  your  bar.  I  tell  you,  Tristam,  if 
he'd  really  died  that  last  time,  after  his  daugh 
ter's  coming  here,  and  begging  you  so  not  to 
sell  him  drink,  I  do  believe  I  should  have 
gone  distracted.  It  don't  seem  to  me  I  could 
'a  lived.  If  I  had,  I'd  been  tortured  all  my 
life,  with  the  thoughts  of  it.  But  I  don't  be 
lieve  this  young  man  will  meddle  with  it,  and 
for  my  part,  I  shall  feel  like  another  woman, 
with  a  real  Christian,  (as  I  know  he  is) ,  sleep 
ing  under  my  "roof." 

"  You  talk  just  like  a  woman,"  growled 
Tristam,  and  he  meant  it  for  no  compliment. 
The  truth  was,  there  were  a  few  large  tears 
running  down  the  patient,  sweet  face,  of 
Hulda  Saint,  and  the  inn-keeper  knew  how 
good,  gentle  and  true  she  had  ever  been  to 


36  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


him,  and  how  much  he  was  indebted  to  her 
foresight,  prudence  and  energy,  for  what 
worldly  success  he  had  met  jvith,  and  being 
naturally  an  easy  man,  extremely  fond  of  his 
wife,  he  could  not  bear  to  refuse  her  once 
for  all. 

"  There's  that  rich  young  man,  who  came 
down  for  his  vacation ;  he's  tired  ef  fishing,  he 
says,  tired  of  the  country,  and  thinks  he  shall 
go  home  next  week.  Give  this  new  agent  his 
room ;  I'm  sure  he'll  pay  you  well  for  it,"  said 
Hulda. 

"  Yes,  next  thing  we  shall  be  having  prayer- 
meetings  here,"  muttered  Tristam. 

"  Hulda  Saint's  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  as 
the  thought  "  I  wish  we  might,"  came  upper 
most,  but  she  said,  quietly,  "  he  doesn't  seem 
like  a  man  who  would  force  his  opinions  on 
people." 

"Doesn't,  eh?  I  should  like  to  know  if  he 
didn't  force  that  prayer  on  us,  over  the  vittles  ? 
It  looked  like  it,  any  way.*  I'll  tell  you ;  he 
shall  stay  here  till  it  comes  to  a  p'int  like 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          37 


that.  If  he  behaves  himself  quietly,  and  don't 
meddle,  why  he's  welcome ;  but  if  he  begins 
to  cant,  and  snivel  and  hint,  or  anything  of  the 
kind,  out  he  goes,  and  Colonel  Leffingwell  may 
do  the  best  he  can  for  him.  One  thing  I 
know,  he'd  find  it  pesky  hard,  getting  along 
here.  Folks  hasn't  got  his  notions  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  unless — "  he  laughed  a  little, 
"it's  old  work-house  Goby,  pious  Goby.  I 
wish  'tother  agent  had  kept  his  fingers  in  his 
pockets,  where  they  should  have  been ;  he  was 
a  clever  fellow  in  the  main,  and  I  liked  him 
better  than  this  canting  Coit,  any  way." 

So  it  was  determined,  that  for  the  tune, 
Guilford  Coit  should  be  a  boarder  at  the 
tavern. 

In  the  morning,  as  had  been  arranged,  the 
new  agent  and  Austin  Grande  breakfasted 
alone,  Hagar  waiting  upon  the  table.  It  was 
curious  to  see  how  stealthily  and  constantly 
the  child,  she  was  but  fifteen,  and  looked  much 
younger,  watched  the  stranger.  When  he 
asked  a  blessing,  her  eyes  followed  his  upward 


38  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

glance,  as  if  she  expected  to  behold  some 
unusual  vision,  and  her  motions  were  quiet, 
almost  reverent,  whenever  she  supplied  his 
wants.  The  young  man  seemed  in  an  un 
usually  happy,  even  merry  mood.  His  very 
face  seemed  as  if  a  sunbeam  had  been  let 
into  some  dark  prison-place,  diffusing  light 
and  cheer  on  whoever  came  near  him.  Austin 
Grande,  on  the  contrary,  was  never  in  a 
gloomier  mood.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if 
he  felt  annoyed  at  Guilford's  cheerful  laugh, 
for  his  brows  came  together  ominously,  when 
ever  he  heard  it.  Still  such  was  the  charm 
possessed  by  Guilford,  that  in  spite  of  himself, 
the  moody  young  man  relented  at  last,  and 
left  the  house  more  cheerful  in  his  manner. 
The  mills  were  a  good  ten  minutes'  walk  from 
the  tavern.  It  was  early  morning,  and  but 
very  few  were  stirring,  as  the  bell  had  not  yet 
rung  the  signal  for  the  commencement  of  the 
day's  labor.  The  stage  was  just  being  brought 
round  in  the  road,  the  horses  were  led  by  an 
urchin  in  questionable  attire,  and  hard  by  the 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          39 


pump  and  water  trough,  an  old  man  of  vener 
able  air,  whose  bald  crown  was  ornamented 
on  either  side  by  long  flowing  curls,  snowy 
white,  bent  over  his  task,  sawing  the  wood 
which  had  been  left  the  night  before.  The 
air  was  filled  with  farm-sounds.  Hens  with 
their  broods,  strutted  leisurely  about;  the 
calves  lowed  in  the  barn,  and  on  every  side 
the  myriad  birds,  all  silver-throated  and  full  of 
melody,  sang  a  welcome  to  the  newly  risen 
sun. 

"  What  a  fine  looking  old  man  that  is  !  "  said 
Guilford,  turning  his  head  to  gaze  at  the 
wood-sawyer. 

"  O,  that's  pious  Goby,"  replied  Austin 
Grande,  with  a  sneer.  w  I  guess  he's  about 
the  only  Christian  we've  got  in  these  parts,"  he 
added. 

w  Ah  I  "  said  Guilford,  "  I  must  go  and 
speak  with  him ;  "  his  face  had  grown  sud 
denly  grave,  more  because  of  the  thoughtless 
manner  of  the  young  man,  than  for  any  other 
reason. 


40  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


"  I  will  walk  on,"  said  Austin. 

"  Very  well,  do  so  ;  "  was  the  reply. 

Guilford  stepped  toward  the  old  man. 

"  Good  morning,  my  friend,"  he  said  in  a 
low  voice. 

The  old  man  started,  looked  up,  stopped 
the  motion  of  his  saw. 

"  My  brother  in  Christ,  I  hope  ;  is  it  so  ?  " 
queried  the  young  man,  smiling,  and  holding 
out  his  hand. 

"All  who  approach  in  that  name,  are  wel 
come  ; "  replied  the  wood-sawyer  in  a  grave 
manner,  and  with  the  accents  of  a  gentleman, 
meeting  the  pressure  of  that  other  hand.  "  Are 
you  a  visitor,  here,  sir?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  reside  among  you  some 
time,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What !  are  you  the  new  agent,  sir  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  they  call  me,"  replied  Guil 
ford,  pleasantly. 

"And  a  Christian?"  still  queried  the  old 
man. 

"  I  humbly  trust  so,"  said  Guilford. 


THE   LANDLORD'S    RESOLUTION.  41 

' 


"  Thanks  to  His  blessed  name,"  exclaimed 
the  old  man,  raising  his  hand  reverently.  "O, 
sir,  I've  been  praying  these  ten  years,  night  and 
morning  ;  aye,  it  has  been  in  all  my  thoughts, 
that  God  would  send  us  one  of  His  servants, 
for  indeed,  indeed,  this  is  a  dark  place,  sir  ; 
no  gospel  ;  no  church  ;  no  Christ." 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  inquired  the  young 
man. 

"  Well  may  you  ask,  sir.  When  I  first 
came  here,  I  was  brought  by  an  accident. 
Never  was  there  a  more  wayward  creature 
than  I.  Not  always  what  you  see  me  was 
poor  Goldby,  sir  —  oh  !  no,  no  ;  "  and  the  old 
man  shook  his  head. 

"Sir,  I've  been  rich  and  wicked,"  resumed 
the  old  man,  for  he  had  paused  a  moment, 
"  I  am  now  poor  and  dependent  ;  an  inmate  of 
the  work-house  in  winter  —  for  you  see  when 
cold  weather  comes  on,  my  injury  affects  me 
still,  and  I  can't  work  at  all.  In  summers  I 
contrive  to  keep  myself;  yet,  sir,  in  this  fallen 
condition,  as  some  might  call  it,  I'm  happier, 


42  THE  MILL  AGENT. 


blessed  be  God,  than  when  a  wealthy  blas 
phemer,  I  rode 'in  my  carriage  and  mocked 
the  Giver  of  all  good,  oh,  a  thousand  times  I " 
He  stopped  a  minute,  wiped  the  gathering 
tears  from  his  eyes,  and  said  softly,  fervently, 
as  he  looked  up  again,  "I'm  glad  you've  come  ; 
I  hope  you'll  do  us  good,  sir." 

"I  hope  at  least,  I  shall  do  you  no  harm," 
replied  Guilford.  "  I  am  glad  we  have  met. 
You  and  I  will  have  some  precious  times  to 
gether  in  the  service  of  our  Lord.  I  must 
bid  you  good  morning ;  I  shall  see  you  again 
soon." 

They  parted ;  the  old  wood-sawyer  looking 
gratefully  after  him,  and  with  a  lighter  heart 
resuming  his  work. 

The  new  agent  did  not  overtake  Austin  till 
the  latter  was  close  by  the  mill.  There  he 
found  him  laughing  and  chatting  with  several 
young  women,  and  not  wishing  to  disturb  him, 
he  moved  around  to  the  other  side  of  the  mill, 
where  he  could  see  the  race  dashing  on, 
throwing  up  a  fine,  glowing  light  as  the  rush- 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          43 


ing  drops  glittered  and  danced,  and  swept  by, 
taking  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  The 
mills  were  situated  at  the  base  of  a  hill,  where 
trees  here  and  there  nestled  in  groups,  and 
wild  flowers  grew  in  crevices  of  the  rocks  that 
partly  formed  its  sides.  In  sight  was  a  rustic 
bridge,  and  on  the  left,  crowning  a  gentle 
acclivity,  the  ahn«t  palace-like  walls  of  Col 
onel  LeffingwelTs  mansion,  shone  whitely  in 
the  sun.  Beautiful  vines  wound  about  the 
pillars,  and  even  at  that  distance,  the  stone 
vases  upon  the  marble  steps,  the  stone  dogs, 
couchant,  who  guarded  the  portals  dumbly, 
could  be  seen.  All  around  were  blooming 
terraces,  highly  cultivated,  and  from  thence 
spread  out  meadows,  orchards  and  intervale. 
As  he  stood  there,  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs 
was  heard,  and  presently  came  Colonel  Leffing- 
well,  on  his  gray  mare,  while  following  him» 
his  daughter  Mary  rode  her  own  milk-white 
colt. 

"Upon  my  word  ! "  cried  Colonel  Leffingwell, 
bowing  to  Austin,  and  recognizing  Guilford, 


44  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


WI  was  just  going  to  take  the  tavern  in  my 
ride  and  call  on  you.  So  you  arrived  last 
night,  of  course ;  I  expected  you.  My 
daughter,  Miss  Mary,"  he  added,  as  Guilford 
came  forward,  hat  in  hand.  The  young  lady 
bowed  in  a  stately  way,  and,  touching  her 
steed,  cantered  slowly  forward. 

"Go  on  as  far  as  youjplease,  my  love," 
called  the  colonel,  placing  the  glove  he  had 
pulled  from  his  right  hand  into  the  other,  "I 
shall  stop  here  a  while  with  Mr.  Coit."  So 
saying,  the  colonel  dismounted,  and  fastening 
his  horse  led  the  way  into  a  small  wing  in 
which  were  the  offices  of  the  mill.  Just  then 
the  bell  struck,  and  as  if  by  magic,  the  roads 
were  instantly  filled.  A  low  hum  sounded 
along  the  air,  laughing  girls  thronged  the 
passages,  and  the  whir  and  whiz  beginning  not 
long  after,  told  that  the  mighty  machinery 
was  moving  its  vast  arms  and  capacious  lungs 
for  the  fulfilment  of  its  daily  labor.  For  a 
long  time  the  colonel  and  the  new  agent  had 
been  conversing  in  the  little,  but  pleasant 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          45 


office.  Colonel  Leflingwell,  stood  over  the 
desk,  at  which  he  had  been  showing  his  books 
and  explaining  about  matters  connected  with 
the  mill-work.  Now  he  appeared  to  be  talk 
ing  of  other  things. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  continued,  "when  I  came 
here,  some  seven  years  ago,  more  on  account 
of  my  wife's  health  than  any  other  matter, 
Clifton  Locks  was  a  dead  and  alive  place.  No 
life,  no  stir,  no  ambition,  nothing  that  was 
pleasant  to  a  man  of  taste  and  refinement.  I 
saw  immediately  that  the  people  wanted 
waking  up,  and  found  that  this  fine  stream  was 
well  calculated  to  give  them  a  shock.  I  went 
to  work  at  once  and  commenced  a  plan  thafl 
had  long  thought  of.  I  built  my  mills  and  set 
them  going  as  the  people  flocked  in.  I  have 
given  them  no  excuse  for  being  unhappy,  for 
the  houses  are  all  comfortable,  convenient  and 
pleasantly  situated.  I  then  went  to  work  and 
managed  to  find  amusement  for  them,  by  en 
larging  the  old  tavern,  and  adding  a  handsome 
hall,  where  they  might  enjoy  themselves  with 


46  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

gatherings  to  their  liking,  get  up  dances, 
games  and  the  like.  My  people  are  all  satis 
fied  that  I  wish  them  to  be  happy,  and  they 
treat  me  accordingly.  Sometimes  I  go  down 
and  join  in  their  sports,  occasionally  taking 
my  son  and  my  daughter.  Thus  you  see  I  am 
as  a  patriarch  over  a  large  and  pleasant  fami 
ly — in  the  style  of  the  old  English  tenantry — 
where  every  land-holder  was  a  father  and  a 
friend ;  a  benefactor  to  both  bodies  and  souls. 
I  despise  the  stiff,  lordly  assumption  of  the 
modern  aristocrat  over  the  common  people,  as 
they  term  the  working  classes." 

All  this  the  new  agent  listened  to,  quietly ; 
his  face  taking  a  variety  of  changes,  as  he 
agreed  with,  or  differed  from,  the  opinions 
of  his  employer.  Colonel  Leffingwell  ended 
by  inviting  him  to  the  next  ball. 

"  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  kind  in 
vitation,"  he  said,  politely ;  "  you  will  pardon 
me,  I  am  sure,  for  declining  to  accept  it,  on 
the  score  of  principle.  I  can  easily  fall  in 
with  much  that  you  have  described  to  me,  but 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.          47 

as  a  professing  Christian,  you  see  I  show  my 
colors  at  once", he  added,  smiling,  and  appear 
ing  somewhat  embarrassed :  "  I  could  not  con 
sistently  make  my  appearance  in  a  ball  room." 
"  Very  right ;  very  right,  I  am  sure  ;  "  said 
the  colonel,  in  a  sharp  voice,  after  one  quick 
glance  of  surprise.  His  face  had  grown  quite 
red,  and  he  turned  almost  abruptly  away.  In 
a  moment,  however,  he  recovered  his  presence 
of  mind,  also  his  politeness,  and  offered  to  take 
the  young  man  in  the  mills.  This  he  did ;  in 
troduced  him  to  a  few  persons,  and  then 
pleading  business,  left  him  to  their  care. 
Guilford  was  somewhat  surprised  at  the  change 
apparent  in  young  Grande,  for  whom  he  had 
taken  a  sudden  and  sincere  liking.  Immersed 
in  business,  his  face  was  lighted  up  by  the  in 
terests  that  absorbed  him.  When  he  spoke, 
his  face  grew  bright  with  smiles ;  he  seemed 
not  to  be  oppressed  with  the  singular  moodi- 
ness  that  hung  upon  him  after  work-hours. 
Guilford  pondered  upon  this,  afterwards  ;  but 
at  present  his  attention  was  called  off  upon 


THE  MILL  AGENT. 


the  busy  scene  around  him.  He  looked  anx 
iously  along  the  lines  of  operatives.  Eight 
and  left  were  rows  of  faces,  many  of  them  in 
telligent,  vivacious  and  beautiful.  For  a 
moment,  his  heart  was  oppressed  by  the 
weight  of  the  responsibility  he  found  himself 
called  upon  to  assume.  "  Give  me  grace,  oh, 
God,"  he  cried,  from  the  innermost  depths  of 
his  heart,  "  to  fulfil  my  duty  as  in  thy  sight. 
O !  make  me  the  means  of  leading  some  of 
these  immortal  souls  in  the  paths  of  peace  and 
righteousness." 

Moving  further  on,  he  was  arrested  by  the 
bearing  of  a  girl,  who  seemed  to'  be  nineteen 
or  twenty-years  of  age  in  figure  and  face,  but 
who  betrayed,  by  a  something,  not  exactly  in 
manner  or  expression,  that  she  was  inured  to 
suffering.  There  was  an  appearance  of  quiet 
dignity  about  her  that  was  extremely  pleasing. 
One  would  involuntarily  think,  without  know 
ing  why,  at  the  first  glance  at  such  a  face  as 
hers,  she  is  seeing  or  has  seen  some  deep 
trouble  ;  some  misfortune  that  has  brushed  all 
the  youthful  bloom  from  her  heart. 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.         49 

Near  her,  working  almost  at  her  side,  was 
little  Hagar  Saint,  her  sweet,  childish  face, 
deep  dimples,  and  fresh,  rosy  cheeks,  formed 
a  strong  contrast  with  the  style  of  her  co- 
worker.  Her  blue  eyes  took  on  instantly  that 
expression  of  deep  awe  that  had  marked  her 
childlike  sense  of  his  superiority  (to  her 
mind)  from  the  first.  She  did  not  even 
smile,  when  he  addressed  her,  gently;  but  a 
look  of  quick,  deep  delight,  passed  over  her 
face. 

"  That  is  the  new  agent,  I  suppose,"  said 
Sarah  Church,  gazing  after  him,  as  he  walked 
forward. 

w  Yes,"  replied  Hagar ;  "  and  you  don't  know 
how  queer  he  is  ?  " 

"  Queer !  "  responded  Sarah,  smiling. 

"Yes.  I  mean  good,  of  course;  why  he's 
so  good — "  added  the  girl,  almost  breathlessly, 
"  that  he  prays  every  time  he  eats — only  think 
of  it ! " 

"Does  he?"  queried  Sarah,  quietly. 

"  Yes  ;  did  you  ever  know  any  one  dp  auch.  a 
thing  as  that  ?  "  asked  little  Hagar. 


50  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

"  O,  yes,"  was  tlie  reply,  and  for  a  moment 
the  girl's  hands  fell  listlessly  at  her  side ;  her 
eyes  took  on  a  far  off  look,  and  there  were 
tears  in  them ;  "  Yes,"  she  said  again,  sighing 
heavily,  "when  I  was  a  child,  my  mother 
always  did;  but — "  the  sentence  was  closed 
abruptly.  What  wonder;  her  father  was  a 
drunkard,  and  she  supported  him. 

"  Well,  now,  I  never  heard  of  it.  Why 
ought  everybody  to  be  so  good  as  that?  I 
thought  if  we  said  '  Our  Father,'  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  'Now  I  lay  me,'  at  night,  that  was 
surely  enough ;  don't  you  think  it  is  ?  "  and  the 
bright  blue  eyes  were  raised  earnestly. 

Sarah  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  Chris 
tians  do  not  think  so,"  she  said,  sadly  ;  "  but 
as  I  am  not  a  Christian,  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell 
you  what  to  do." 

"  You  not  a  Christian,"  queried  Hagar  Saint, 
simply,  "  why,  I  thought  we  were  all  Chris 
tians,  provided  we  didn't  do  anything  very 
wicked.  I've  always  tried  to  be  good  to 
father  and  mother,  and  though  I  wanted  money 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION.         51 


ever  so  much,  I  didn't  come  into  the  mill  a 

• 

whole  year  ago,  because  they  said  they'd  rather 
I  wouldn't.  If  I'd  coaxed  very  hard,  I  might — 
but  I  was  afraid  that  would  be  wicked,  and 
something  might  happen  to  me.  I  guess 
you're  a  Christian,  for  I've  heard  ever  so  many 
people  say  how  good  you  were." 

Sarah  smiled,  a  little  sadly,  at  this  artless 
speech,  and  there  was  a  long  silence,  broken 
again  by  Hagar. 

"Are  you  going  to  the  ball,  to-morrow 
night?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  reply. 

Sarah  Church  was  very  proud.  Disguising 
her  father's  sin,  as  much  as  was  in  her  power, 
she  felt  oftentimes  as  if  the  great  disgrace  was 
hidden  from  the  world.  Hence  she  strove  to 
appear  as  brave  as  the  bravest,  and  though 
she  had  not  a  decided  inclination  for  scenes  of 
pleasure,  she  yet  attended  them,  that  she 
might  not  give  cause  for  people  to  say  she 
could  not  go  while  old  Church  drank  up  all 
her  money.  Many  sleepless  nights  she  spent 


52  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


in  devising  some  piece  of  finery  out  of  scant 
materials ;  and  it  pleased  her  father,  who 
had  once  moved  in  high  circles  and  mixed  in 
fashionable  pleasures,  to  see  her  thus  employ 
ed.  But  the  soul  of  this  girl  was  never  satis 
fied  ;  it  craved  higher  food.  The  noble  self- 
sacrifice  that  prompted  her  to  remain  with  her 
father,  rather  than  accept  the  free  offering  of 
an  honorable  affection  and  the  delight  of  a 
happy  home,  was  only  one  of  the  phases  of 
her  finely  constituted  character.  It  gratified, 
in  a  measure,  her  yearning  for  something  bet 
ter,  to  feel  that  she  was  capable  pf,  and  could 
do,  this  good.  But  that  there  was  a  beyond, 
that  haunted  her,  a  possibility  of  duties  and 
hopes  and  wishes  unattained,  yet  within  her 
reach,  and  for  the  neglect  of  which  she  must 
be  responsible,  was  never  absent  from  her 
mind.  The  words  of  Hagar,  that  the  new 
agent  was  so  good,  that  he  prayed  every  time 
he  ate,  kept  recurring  to  her.  They  brought 
to  her  mind  a  little  picture  that  had  been  her 
mother's,  and  with  which  she  had  never  part- 


THE  LANDLORD'S  RESOLUTION,          53 


ed — '  The  Last  Supper' — over  which  the  Holy 
Christ  presiding,  held  clasped  hands,  and 
called  for  a  blessing  before  he  should  eat. 
Sarah  was  very  silent,  very  thoughtful,  for  the 
rest  of  that  day. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HAGEE. 

Y  HEART  burns  within  me  to  do 
this  neglected  people  good,"  thought 
Guilford  that  evening.  The  duties  of  the  day 
were  done,  and  the  dusk  was  stealing  softly 
over  the  hill  tops,  displacing  their  robes  of 
gold  and  purple,  for  the  more  sombre  raiment 
of  night. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  us  ? "  said  a 
voice  at  his  elbow. 

The  question  was  untimely ;  for  the  agent 
had  but  that  moment  been  expressing  to  him 
self,  his  conviction  of  the  great  worldliness 
apparent  in  the  population  by  whom  he  found 
himself  surrounded. 

"I  think  you  are  an  industrious  people," 
said  Guilford,  still  looking  away. 

"  But  wofully  wanting  in  the  religious  sen- 


HAGEE.  55 

timent;  perhaps  you  might    add,"  rejoined 
Austin  Grande. 

"  I  perceive,"  replied  Guilford,  "  that  God  is 
not  in  all  their  thoughts." 

"  Perhaps  not  in  any  of  them,"  said  Austin. 
w  I  can  speak  for  one  that  yours  would  be  in 
my  case  a  true  judgment." 

Guilford  turned  and  fastened  a  penetrating 
gaze  upon  the  face  of  his  companion.  He  did 
not  appear  to  have  spoken  lightly ;  on  the  con 
trary  there  was  a  tinge  of  deep  sadness  on 
every  part  of  his  countenance,  and  his  thin 
lips  were  painfully  locked  together. 

"My  friend,"  said  Guilford,  "you  were  a 
different  man,  when  I  saw  you  in  the  mill, 
to-day." 

"O,  there — yes,"  replied  Austin;  "my 
energies  were  all  employed ;  my  mind  full,  my 
hands  and  head  busy.  It  is  only  in  the  ex 
citement  of  action  that  I  am — I  wont  say 
happy,  but  in  a  degree,  satisfied;  after  that 
there's  a  void,  unless  there's  something  out  of 
the  usual  way  of  going  on — for  instance,  a 


56  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


ball,  or  an  agreeable  gathering  of  some  land. 
I'm  queerly  constituted,  I  sometimes  think." 

"  We  are  all  of  us  queerly  constituted,"  said 
Guilford. 

"You,  at  least,  appear  to  be  an  exception," 
returned  Austin. 

"  Not  by  constitution,  however,"  said  Guil 
ford,  with  a  grave  smile  ;  "  but — "  he  looked 
solemnly  upward,  then  yearningly  into  the 
troubled  face  of  his  companion  "  by  the  grace 
of  God,  I  am  what  I  am." 

Austin  Grande  first  frowned,  then  sneered ; 
the  latter  movement,  however,  was  scarcely 
observable. 

"You  are  what  circumstances  have  made 
you,"  he  said  in  a  moment  after. 

"  I  am  what  Christ  has  made  me,"  returned 
Guilford,  softly. 

"  Yes,  granted  for  a  moment ;  but  the  con 
trolling  mediums  of  your  life,  of  your  religion, 
even,  have  been  the  positions  in  which,  you 
have  been  placed,  and  the  aids  or  disturbances 
by  which  you  have  been  surrounded.  Let  me 


HAGER.  57 

read  your  past :  educated  by  a  gentle  mother ; 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by  the  best  of  in 
fluences  ;  watched  over ;  guarded  from  con 
tamination,  from  moral  pollution  ;  growing  up 
under  careful  eyes,  and  in  the  fear  of  God ; 
nursed  in  church  doctrines  ;  fed  upon 
clerical  pap  ;  folded  at  last  in  the  loving  arms 
of  the  church — have  I  read  aright  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Guilford  in  a  low,  but  very 
firm  voice ;  "no,  sir,"  he  said  again,  in  tones 
that  were  absolutely  thrilling ;  "  would  that 
you  had,  and  then  much  sin,  much  suffering, 
had  been  spared  me.  I  have  been  through  a 
bitter  experience.  I  have  had  no  mother 
from  my  birth ;  no  father  since  I  was  seven 
years  of  age.  Contamination  from  moral 
pollution,  was  almost  certain  in  my  circum 
stances.  I  have  grown  up  under  hard,  evil 
eyes ;  no  church  has  enfolded  me  in  her 
friendly  arms  ;  I  knew  nothing  of  the  fear  of 
God ;  sir,"  he  turned  abruptly  round,  "  I  was 
once  but  little  removed  from  the  heathen ;  I 
was  sunk  down,  down  deep  in  the  mire  of  in- 


58  THE    MILL   AGENT. 

fidelity,  from  which  no  less  that  an  Almighty 
power  can  save  any  man." 

Austin  Grande  was  silent — his  lips,  how 
ever  worked  uneasily. 

"  For  my  part,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  I  have 
seen  nothing  but  hypocrisy,  double  deal 
ing,  and  anything  but  unworldly  selfishness 
through  my  short  career.  What  am  I  to  do, 
when  after  pinning  my  faith  upon  this  or  that 
Christian,  I  find  that  after  all,  he  has.  worse 
than  my  short-comings  ;  for  I,  infidel,  I  sup 
pose  you  would  call  me,  could  not  stoop  to 
the  petty,  mean,  contemptible  motives  that 
actuate  many  of  these  people." 

"  He  who  pins  his  faith  upon  any  mere  mor 
tal,  deserves  all  the  disappointments  that  may 
fall  to  his  lot, "  said  Guilford  gravely ;  "  and 
with  regard  to  the  failings  of  others,  Chris 
tians  or  worldlings,  remember  what  Christ, 
the  infallible,  says, 

"  What  is  that  to  thee?     Follow  thou  me." 

Austin  Grande  started ;  the  very  words  his 
eye  had  caught — the  very  words  that,  since 


HAGER.  59 

the  preceding  night,  had  echoed  through  his 
brain.  At  all  times  he  seemed  to  hear  them  ; 
they  were  written  on  the  sky ;  on  the  ground 
over  which  he  passed ;  at  intervals  on  the 
blank  pages  of  the  books  used  in  his  business, 
and  even  in  the  faces  he  saw.  He  threw  ofi 
the  impression,  however,  in  a  moment,  and 
the  hard,  defiant  feeling  came  back  again. 

"My  father,"  he  muttered,  "made  my  life 
miserable ;  I  have  never  forgiven  him ;  I 
never  icill  forgive  him — never,  never  !  " 

"  O  !  that  is  a  hard  saying, "  responded 
Guilford,  a  look  of  pain  crossing  his  face. 
"  Let  me  hope  that  you  will  both  give  and 
find  mercy.  Christ  tells  us  that  if  a  man  hate 
his  brother  he  cannot  love  God,  how  much 
less  if  he  hate  his  father.  Don't  cherish  such 
enmities,  they  are  unworthy  of  you." 

"  If  you  had  seen  your  mother  dying  the 
lingering  death  of  the  gambler's  wife,"  said 
Austin  Grande,  hoarsely,  "and  not  only  of 
the  gambler — "  his  voice  broke  down.  It 
seemed  as  if  some  anguished  memory  filled 


60  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


his  soul — he  turned  away  abruptly,  and  enter 
ed  the  house.  Guilford  gazed  after  him, 
yearningly,  but  respecting  his  grief,  whatever 
it  was,  did  not  follow;  he  only  said  in  the 
fulness  and  sorrow  of  his  spirit,  w  give  him  to 
me,  Lord,  I  pray  thee,  give  me  this  one 
soul." 

Guilford  entered  the  tavern.  In  the  low 
ceiled  parlor  sat  Hager.  Before  her  on  a 
table  were  spread  beautiful  flowers  and  green 
leaves,  from  which  she  was  selecting  certain 
kinds  to  make  wreaths.  I  have  before  said 
that  this  sweet  young  girl  was  unconsciously 
a  poet.  The  finer  pulses  of  a  delicate  and 
sensitive  temperament  vibrated  through  her 
organization.  She  was  so  constituted,  that 
her  heart  was  open  to  the  holier  influences  of 
spirituality,  and  only  waited  to  be  enlighten 
ed  before  its  tendrils  would  reach  forth  and 
cling  to  that  mysterious  support  that  we  call 
faith.  She  had  always  been  the  sun  and 
warmth  of  that  house,  had  stood  in  the  place 
of  God  in  her  father's  soul,  for  unconsciously, 


HAGER.  61 

he  worshipped  her.  Almost  any  other  child 
so  deferred  to,  so  idolized,  would  have  de 
veloped  dangerous  tendencies ;  not  so  Hager. 
She  was  a  woudrously  winning  creature  in 
any  mood;  now  she  seemed  as  fresh  and 
beautiful  as  the  flowers,  and  to  an  outward  ob 
server,  as  innocent. 

As  Guilford  came  in  she  half  rose  from  her 
seat,  while  the  peculiar  awe  of  her  counte 
nance  made  him  smile. 

"Keep  at  work,  Hager,"  he  said  gently, 
familiarly,  w  don't  let  me  disturb  you.  What 
beautiful  flowers  !  You  have  fine  taste,  my 
child, "  he  added,  lifting  a  bouquet  that  was 
just  finished. 

The  young  girl  reddened  with  delight. 
Praise  from  one  she  thought  of  as  superior  to 
all  she  had  ever  seen  in  her  little  world,  was 
something  to  be  glad  for. 

K  Thank  you,  sir,"  she  said  timidly ;  w  I  was 
never  taught,  but  I  love  them  so  it  seems  as 
if  I  could  do  anything  with  them." 

w  And  what  festival  are  you  preparing  them 
for?"  queried  Guilford. 


62  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


w  O,  for  the  ball,  sir,  to-morrow  night." 

"And  you  will  attend,  I  suppose,"  he 
said. 

"  O  !  yes,  sir ;  "  her  eyes  sparkled,  "  there 
is  nothing  I  like  in  this  world  so  well  as 
dancing.  Don't  you  think  it  delightful,  sir?" 
Something  in  his  look  abashed  her ;  she  turn 
ed  her  eyes  away  uneasily. 

"  I  did  once,"  he  said  in  a  very  soft  voice, 
"  but  I  have  found  something  better." 

K  Better  than  dancing  ?  "  murmured  Hager, 
vaguely  wondering  what  it  could  be. 

"Yes,  better  than  dancing,  a  thousand 
times  better.  And  you  would  say  so,  if  you 
knew  just  what  I  mean.  I  take  more  pleasure 
in  one  hour  spent  in  communion  with  heaven, 
than  others  in  years  of  these  dissipations." 

"I  don't  quite  understand  what  you  mean 
by  spending  an  hour  in  cpmnmnion  with 
heaven,"  she  said,  simply,  emboldened  by 
his  seeming  confidence  in  her. 

"  And  have  you  never  heard  of  our  Sav 
iour?" 


HAGER.  63 

"Once  in  a  great  while,"  she  answered, 
w  and  since  you  have  been  here,  when  you 
pray.  Only  my  mother  talks  of  him,  some 
times." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  There 's  nobody  here,  that  I  know  of,  cares 
about  such  things,"  returned  Ilager. 

"  No  minister  ?  "  queried  Guilford. 

"  There  is  no  minister  here,  sir." 

"  Where  do  you  go  to  church  ?  " 

"  I  never  go  to  church,  sir,"  said  Hagar, 
"they  have  none  here,  and  it's  seven  miles  to 
the  nearest  meeting-house — too  far  for  me, 
sir,  unless  we  kept  a  carriage.  I  thought 
you  were  a  minister,  when  I  first  saw  you,' 
she  added  blushingly. 

He  shook  his  head  ;  he  had  grown  very  sad 
over  Hager's  ans\vers.  She  silently  took  up 
the  flowers,  tied  them  together,  and  felt 
strangely  nervous. 

"How  few,"  he  said,  rather  to  himself, 
"  know  of  the  great  joy — so  far  more  glorious 
than  these  earthly  pleasures — a  joy  that 


64  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

renovates  instead  of  exhausting ;  that  bears 
no  regrets,  no  headaches,  no  tired  limbs,  no 
jealousies  and  heart-burnings.  That  joy  is  in 
the  service  of  Christ  Jesus,  who  loves  us  as 
no  earthly  being  can ;  who  died  for  us  !  " 

That  upward  glance  of  holy  fervor !  the 
sweet,  heavenly,  trusting  composure  that  ir 
radiated  every  line  of  his  face,  and  made  of  it 
a  luminous  beauty  !  that  smile  !  not  like  other 
smiles — she,  the  unsophisticated  girl,  felt 
in  her  inmost  heart,  that  nothing  of  earth 
could  so  transfigure  the  human  countenance. 

The  sight,  the  words  just  spoken,  her  own 
exceeding  reverence  for  the  man  who  seemed 
a  new  revelation  to  her,  so  wrought  upon  her 
sensitive  nature,  that  the  tears  welled  up  to 
her  eyes  and  would  not  be  restrained.  He 
laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  sunny  head,  say 
ing,  "  God  bless  you,  my  child  !  I  did  not 
mean  to  make  you  sorrowful.  Be  happy, 
Hager,  happy  and  light  hearted  all  the  time  ; 
I  like  that ;  but  oh  !  seek  first  the  kingdom  of 
God ;  you  will  say  then  that  you  never  knew 
happiness  before." 


HAGER.  65 

He  left  her  alone  with  her  new,  strangely  sol 
emn  emotions .  Overhead  in  the  long  hall,  her 
father  and  mother  were  busy  getting  things  in 
readiness  for  the  coming  entertainment.  She 
heard  their  footsteps  but  cared  not  to  seek 
them. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PIOUS    GOLDBT. 

OU  WILL  go  in,  of  course,"  said  Aus 
tin  Grande,  who  was  putting  the  fin 
ishing  touches  to  his  toilet.  "You  needn't 
dance,  you  know,  and  I  always  think  it's  worth 
something  to  see  so  many  people  in  holiday 
attire." 

"  Thank  you.  I  should  not  enjoy  it  at  all ; 
and  could  not  conscientiously  enter  a  place  in 
which  my  principles  forbade  me  to  remain." 

"  What  a  parade  !  "  muttered  Austin  Grande 
to  himself. 

"  You  Christians  are  altogether  too  strict  for 
my  notions,"  he  said  aloud  a  moment  after ; 
wan  innocent  enjoyment  like  that  can  harm  no 
one." 

"It  has  harmed  me,  however,"  replied  Guil- 
ford,  "  and  knowing  that,  feeling  conscious 

66 


PIOUS  GOLDBY.  67 


that  I  have  in  my  heart  something  I  would  not 
exchange  for  all  the  joys  of  this  poor  earth 
— how  can  I  go?  Besides,  it  would  be  no 
pleasure  to  me ;  one  cannot  relish  food  for 
which  he  has  no  appetite — you  will  admit 
that." 

Austin  muttered  a  dissatisfied  yes.  Guil- 
ford  walked  away,  came  back  a  few  steps 
irresolutely,  then  moved  up  near  Austin  and 
laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  The  young 
man  turned,  quite  startled,  and  met  those 
beaming  eyes. 

"  For  your  own  sake,"  whispered  the 
agent,  "  allow  me  to  hope  that  some  time  this 
merely  exciting  and  temporary  pleasure,  may 
be  as  distasteful  to  you  as  it  is  to  me.  The 
water  of  the  river  of  life  is  free." 

Austin  Grande  changed  color.  Perhaps  it 
was  on  his  tongue  to  make  some  keen,  unkind 
retort.  If  it  was,  the  mild  sorrow  in  those 
clear  eyes,  disarmed  him,  and  the  hand  which 
he  placed  in  that  of  his  friend,  trembled. 

Guilford  Coit  knew  enough  of  the  entertain- 


68  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


ments  of  those  times,  (not  much  altered  are 
they  to-day)  to  wish  for  a  seclusion  not  prac 
ticable  there.  He  had  seen  some  of  those 
beautiful  flowers  carried  in  the  bar-room  to 
decorate  its  polluted,  contents.  That  the 
weary  dancers  would  resort  thither  for  stimu 
lants  he  saw  was  expected,  indeed  inevitable, 
and  he  had  no  wish  to  witness  the  degradation 
consequent  upon  intemperance.  So  in  obedi 
ence  to  a  long  cherished  desire,  he  left  the 
house  and  wended  his  way  to  the  poor-house, 
where  lived  "  pious  Goby,"  the  veteran  wood- 
sawyer.  He  found  the  old  man  seated  outside 
the  work-house,  enjoying  the  soft,  bland  south 
ern  wind,  that  seemed  to  touch  his  white  locks 
reverently.  It  was  beautiful  to  note  the  glow 
of  pleasure  that  instantaneously  suffused  the 
aged  features. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  he  said,  extend 
ing  his  hand,  and  half  rising  "  I  am  glad  to 
see  you.  Miss  Mary  came  to  the  old  place 
this  afternoon ;  bless  her  sweet  face  !  I  didn't 
expect  this  favor  from  you  so  soon." 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  69 


w  You  refer  to  the  daughter  of  Colonel  Lef- 
fingwell,"  said  Guilford,  taking  a  seat  at  his 
side. 

"Yes,  sir,  you  may  have  seen  her;  she  is 
one  out  of  a  thousand,  sir,  in  many  respects. 
She  knows  my  story,  sir,  knows  that  the  poor 
old  man  was  once  blessed  with  beautiful 
daughters  and  brave  sons,  and  she  feels  for 
me,  sir.  To  others  she  may  seem  cold  and 
reserved,  they  say  haughty,  but  never  to  me, 
sir.  It  seems,  sir,  at  times,  as  if  that  young 
lady  was  very  near  the  kingdom.  I  wish  she 
might  give  the  beauty  of  her  youth  to  Christ, 
for  if  there  is  one  way  more  than  another  by 
which  Colonel  Lcffingwell  might  be  saved,  it 
would  be  through  his  children.  He  idolizes 
them,  sir.  Did  you  ever  meet  his  son, 
Merric?" 

"  I  never  did,"  said  Guilford. 

"A  charming  young  gentleman,"  the  old 
man  went  on,  "just  as  sweet  and  good  as  his 
sister,  to  me.  He  has  been  going  to  college, 
but  his  health  failed  a  year  ago,  and  he  has 


70  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


remained  at  home  until  now.  They  think  he 
is  quite  restored,  but  the  consumption  runs  in 
the  family,  I  have  heard,  sir,  and  I  fear  for 
him  at  times.  A  lovely  young  gentleman  he 
is,  and  like  his  father,  proud  of  his  good 
name,  trusting  in  his  good  works.  I  don't 
pass  judgment  on  them,  sir ;  they  themselves 
allow  they  don't  need  Christ,  sir ;  they  say 
they  don't.  But  oh  !  you  and  I,  sir,  know 
they  do ;  know  that  the  whole  world  needs 
him,"  he  laid  his  thin  hand  on  Guilford's  knee, 
and  his  face  was  bright,  yet  solemn  with  an 
inward  joy. 

"Yes,  yes,  Christ  is  the  only  Saviour," 
murmured  the  young  man. 

"  O  !  sir,  if  Miss  Mary,  if  dear  young  Mas 
ter  Merric,  if  the  old  colonel  only  felt  this  as 
their  need,  what  a  place  we  should  have  here  ! 
There  is  not  a  more  beautiful  town  than  Clif 
ton  Locks ;  there  is  not  one  more  destitute  of 
all  religious  influences.  There  are  churches 
in"  the  other  villages,  but  at  such  a  distance 
that  the  people  do  not  care  to  travel  on  foot. 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  71 


There  are  those  here,  too,  who  profess  them 
selves  disciples  of  the  Lord,  who  harness  up 
and  drive  to  God's  house,  come  back  in  the 
afternoon^nd  join  in  the  sports  that  are  carried 
on,  on  that  day." 

"  Sports  ! "  ejaculated  Guilford,  incredu 
lously. 

"  Certainly,  sir ;  the  young  men  have  games, 
there  are  drives  and  promenades,  and  often 
picnics  on  the  Sabbath.  Worse  than  all,  the 
more  dissolute  get  up  cock-fights  and  dog- 
baits,  as  they  call  them.  Ah  !  sir,  you  little 
know  the  extent  of  Clifton  Locks'  depravi 
ty  ;"  the  old  man  sighed  as  he  ceased. 

"  I  pity  them  the  more,"  he  continued,  "be 
cause  I  have  myself  gone  great  lengths  in 
practical  infidelity.  I  was  brought  up  in  the 
very  midst  of  fashionable  society,  and  heard 
of  God  only  as  my  nurse  taught  me  to  pray. 
I  grew  to  manhood  ignorant  in  a  measure, 
of  redeeming  grace  and  dying  love ;  for  my 
Sabbaths  were  spent  in  pleasure.  God  took 
my  wife  from  me,  but  that  blow  seemed  only 


72  THE   MILL   AGEXT. 

to  harden  my  heart.  Then  my  two  sons  died, 
one  of  them  a  sudden  and  violent  death ;  my 
two  daughters,  after  they  were  happily  mar 
ried,  died  within  a  month  of  each  other. 
These  things  almost  broke  my  heart,  but 
though  I  heard  the  voice  of  God  in  my  afflic 
tion,  and  felt,  in  spite  of  all  my  reasoning, 
that  He  only  could  heal  the  wounds  my  grief 
had  made,  I  would  not  bow  to  Him.  After 
that  it  seemed  as  if  my  heart  was  set  in  me  to 
do  evil.  I  gloried  in  defying  the  Almighty. 
Becoming  reckless  in  business  operations,  I 
first  endorsed  to  a  large  amount,  then  plunged 
in  speculation.  Ah !  sir,  I  woke  one  morn 
ing  and  found  myself  a  beggar.  There  I  was, 
no  family ;  sons  and  daughters  gone  down  to 
the  cold  grave ;  no  wife  to  cheer  me,  penni 
less  and  friendless,  for  who  befriends  the 
ruined  man  of  the  world  ? 

"  Well,  sir,  defiant  thoughts  came  into  my 
brain.  I  felt  that  having  gone  to  excess  in 
pleasure,  my  constitution  was  hopelessly  shat 
tered,  and  what  had  I  to  live  for?  To  my 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  73 

darkened  mind  there  was  but  one  remedy  for 
all  my  sorrows — death.  After  contemplating 
all  kinds  of  desperate  measures,  I  at  length 
came  calmly  to  the  determination  of  taking 
my  own  life.  The  blank  horror  and  darkness 
that  enveloped  my  soul,  no  tongue  can  de 
scribe — oh !  sir,  a  man  without  God  is  a 
pitiable  creature  !  He  can  look  nowhere  for 
help.  The  faces  of  his  fellow  men  might  as 
well  be  cut  in  stone,  for  he  can  see  no  sym 
pathy  there.  They  cannot  enter  into  his  feel 
ings  ;  they  cannot  see  the  dread  despair  that 
eats  at  his  heart  and  cankers  every  thought. 
They  know  not  of  that  hopeless  sinking,  that 
paralysis  of  all  evil,  that  dreadful  anguish  that 
finds  vent  in  groans  without  a  voice,  in  hot 
tears  that  are  never  shed ;  in  shrieks  that  shat 
ter  the  body,  though  they  may  not  be  heard 
outside  of  its  poor  walls.  I  felt  all  this,  sir. 
Waking,  I  was  in  torment  ;  sleeping,  in 
agony,  for  my  dreams  but  repeated  my  sor 
rows.  I  could  almost  hear  suggestions  of 
evil  that  appealed  to  me  on  all  sides ;  I  felt 


74  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


their  import — it  was  that  horrible  temptation 
to  rid  myself  of  life.  O,  sir,  I  hope  the  sun, 
the  blessed,  blue  daylight,  never  looked  to 
you  as  it  has  to  me — the  memory  of  that  time 
almost  overcomes  me.  I  believe,  that  verily, 
demons  were  fighting  for  my  soul .  And  the 
worst  of  that  unhappy  state,  was,  my  relent 
less  hate  of  God.  Words  cannot  describe  to 
you  the  blackness  of  that  hate.  I  was  madden 
ed  to  find  myself  so  powerless  to  fight  against 
Hun.  I  looked  upon  him  as  the  destroyer  of 
all  my  hopes  ;  the  undying  persecutor  of  my 
soul.  If  I  opened  a  page  that  spoke  of  his 
goodness,  I  dashed  it  from  me  with  bitter 
curses  ;  a  more  utterly  malignant  spirit  than 
possessed  me  then,  the  world  of  darkness 
does  not  hold.  And  all  this,  with  the  full 
knowledge  that  I  had  deliberately  chosen  evil, 
that  it  was  not  forced  upon  me — that  I  held 
the  balance  of  my  hardly  earned  retribution 
independently  of  all  powers  in  heaven  or  on 
earth.  Sir,  I  distinctly  felt 'this;  I  believe 
every  evil-doer  feels  it,  and  his  contempt  and 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  75 


loathing  of  himself  extend 'to  every  created 
thing,  and  above  all,  more  malignant  than  all, 
to  the  great  Uncreated,  by  whom  all  things 
are  made.  Finally,  I  took  a  deliberate  stand. 
I  spent  my  last  cent  for  a  railroad-ticket  to  a 
certain  place,  and  determined  in  some  man 
ner  to  end  my  miserable  life  before  the  jour 
ney's  end.  I  have  not  told  you  how  proud  I 
was,  by  nature.  My  temper  had  never  been 
controlled,  yet  this  pride  enabled  me  to  hide, 
its  paroxyms  from  everybody  but  myself. 
During  this  awful  struggle,  men  saw  me 
smile,  heard  me  laugh,  and  though  they  knew 
that  I  was  ruined,  they  expected  to  see  me 
stem  the  tide  and  sometime  enter  into  pros 
perous  business  again.  So  when  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  end  my  struggle  and  my  exist 
ence  together,  I  was  too  proud  to  have  men 
know  it.  They  should  not  call  me  Goldby 
the  suicide — never ; — my  death  must  appear 
to  be  the  result  of  accident.  O,  sir  I  God 
was  merciful,"  added  the  aged  man,  great 
tears  streaming  down  the  hollows  of  his 


76  THE   MILL   AGESTT. 

cheeks.  "You  remember,  perhaps,  the  ter 
rible  accident  of  forty-seven ;  fifty  people 
perished,  and  I,  poor  wretched  sinner,  was 
saved.  I — the  hater  of  God — the  rash  seeker 
for  a  dread  eternity — I  was  saved !  There 
were  little  innocent  children  mangled ;  there 
were  brave  and  noble  women  crushed  to 
death ;  there  were  great  and  holy  and  honor 
able  Christian  men  sent  to  the  eternal  world, 
and  poor  miserable  I — the  outcast  from  self 
and  heaven — I  was  rescued,  with  broken  limbs, 
it  is  true,  and  sad  internal  injuries — but  oh  I 
for  more  than  this,  to  be  a  monument  of  God's 
great  forbearance — of  His  sweetly  gentle  pa 
tience,  with  the  man  who  had  longed  to  curse 
Him  and  die.  Can  you  wonder,  sir,  at  this 
emotion?  Should  I  not  be  less  than  man  if 
this  poor  frame  did  not  shake,  and  these 
thankful  tears  fall,  as  I  recount  the  Gracious 
goodness  of  my  God  ?  " 

"When  I  came  to  consciousness,  I  found 
myself  in  a  bed,  luxurious  for  its  softness,  and 
around  which  hung  beautiful  curtains.  But 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  77 


oh  !  sir,  the  loveliest  thing  in  that  room  of 
splendor  was  a  little  child  of  seven  years, 
whose  face  was  the  first  image  of  recognition. 
I  can  see  it  now — an  angel's  countenance, 
round  which  hung  soft  curls.  It  seemed  to 
be  one  of  my  own  lost  children,  restored  to 
youth  and  innocence  again.  Presently  I 
closed  my  eyes ;  the  curtains  were  shut,  the 
little  face  gone,  but  I  could  hear  voices — the 
mother  and  her  little  one  were  talking." 

"  lie  looked,  at  me,"  said  the  little  voice. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,"  he  is  probably  con 
scious,  but  must  not  talk  yet." 

"Do  you  suppose  he  will  die,  mamma?" 
queried  the  child. 

"I  can't  tell,  my  darling — I  hope  not,"  said 
the  mother.  +r , 

"Don't  you  suppose  he'll  be  glad  to  see 
Jesus,  if  he  does  die?"  queried  the  artless 
voice.  "And  if  he  does  die,  mamma,  and 
talks  before  he  dies,  I'll  ask  him  if  he'll  find 
little  brother  Robby  in  heaven.  If  he  can't 
find  him,  Jesus  will  tell  him  where  he  is, 
wont  he?" 


78  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


"Simple  as  was  this  childish  talk,  my  young 
friend,  it  thrilled  me  through  and  through. 
What !  I  see  Jesus — I,  loaded  down  with  sins 
of  thought  and  word  and  deed,  and  all  manner 
of  hate — I,  see  Jesus?  I,  look  for  a  little 
lamb  who  died  in  his  innocence  and  stood  be 
fore  Christ  with  holy  hands  ?  It  is  a  wonder 
that  the  agony  and  remorse  that  rushed  over 
me  did  not  end  my  life.  The  vileness  I  felt 
at  that  moment,  can  never  be  described — 
never,  never.  I  did  not  dare  to  raise  my 
thoughts  to  God,  even  in  gratitude.  I  was 
penetrated  with  shame ;  I  was  before  Him 
then,  the  searcher  of  hearts,  one  mass  of  in 
iquity.  I  saw  his  eye  upon  me  as  plainly  as 
I  see  yours.  Moment  by  moment,  hour  by 
hour — yes,  in  that  anguish  it  seemed  years 
upon  years,  that  Christ  stood  and  looked  at 
me.  My  every  thought,  emotion,  shade  of 
feeling,  was  read  by  His  sorrowful  eyes.  I 
could  see  nothing  else  but  that  look  and  my 
own  vileness.  Everything  I  had  ever  done 
passed  in  review  before  Him  and  my  heart — 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.    <  79 

yes,  the  book  was  opened  there — the  frightful 
book  of  my  life. 

"The  doctor  came  to  my  bedside — I  could 
see  him — but  still  I  saw  that  eye.  "Is  there 
no  hope  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  Your  recovery  is  not  altogether  doubtful," 
he  replied. 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  were  my  despairing 
words,  "let  the  body  go — but  is  there  no 
hope  for  the  soul?" 

"  O  !  yes,"  he  replied,  and  I  saw  his  face 
brighten,  "  Christ  says,  '  come  unto  me  all 
ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.' " 

"  I  have  hated  Him  too  long,"  I  cried  weep 
ing  like  a  child. 

"  No  longer  than  he  has  loved  you,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  I  thought  my  heart  would  break  when  he 
said  this.  Had  Christ  loved  me — He  whom  I 
had  put  to  open  shame,  had  not  only  despised 
but  mocked — had  not  only  mocked  but 
cursed — could  it  be  possible  that  He  ever  had, 


80  THE    MILL   AGENT. 

ever  would,  love  me  ?  Pure  as  I  felt  He  must 
be,  could  he  touch  my  polluted  hand;  the 
hand  that  had  led  others  into  the  ways  of  sin  ? 
If  I  could  have  experienced  His  instantaneous 
displeasure ;  had  I  have  heard  his  voice  con 
demning  me  in  tones  like  thunder,  it  would 
have  been  relief — yes,  even  to  be  hated  by 
Him — but  to  feel  that  He  loved  me,  it  was 
too  much — oh !  it  was  too  much.  It  shook 
my  soul  to  its  foundations ;  it  pierced  me  like 
an  arrow ;  it  condemned  me  utterly,  and  yet 
through  all  the  mists,  the  darkness,  the  de 
spair  of  sin,  it  shone  down  like  a  warm  sun 
beam  ;  it  penetrated  the  stony  soil  of  my  heart, 
it  saved  me,  glory  be  to  God. 

"  My  dear  sir,  this  emotion  is  too  much  for 
you,"  said  Guilford,  himself  shaken  at  the 
recital. 

"O  !  let  me  weep,"  cried  the  old  man  brok 
enly,  "it  is  His  mercy,  His  goodness  makes 
me.  The  very  rocks  might  melt  if  they  had 
consciousness  and  could  feel  what  it  is  for  an 
immortal  soul  to  pass  from  death,  unto  life. 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  81 


Think  of  it,  sir,  think  of  it !  "  and  he  lifted 
his  thin  arms  upward,  while  the  pure  white 
light  of  the  moon  made  his  face  saintly ;  "  all 
eternity  to  praise  God  in ;  it  will  not  be  too 
long  for  me;  "  and  the  tears  glittered  on  his 
furrowed  cheeks  like  drops  of  silver. 

"  I  have  read  of  people  being  reprieved  at 
the  foot  of  the  gallows,  on  the  steps  of  the 
scaffold,  and  given  back  to  blessed  life  again," 
he  said  in  a  softer  voice.  "  I  have  thought 
what  joy  it  must  have  been  !  how  sweet,  how 
full  of  blessedness  the  existence  they  had  all- 
most  given  up  !  But  what  must  that  rapture 
be,  think  you,  that  reprieves  an  immortal 
soul?  Have  you  felt  it?  Perhaps  so,  in  some 
degree.  I  see  that  expression  in  your  face 
that  none  wear  but  the  children  of  God ;  still, 
unless  you  had  gone  the  frightful  length  in  sin 
that  I  had,  you  could  not  have  quite  the  full 
ness  of  joy  that  I  have  felt,  that  overcame  me 
I  mean,  the  especial  moment  when  I  could 
cry  my  Father  and  my  God  !  " 

"  And  you  convalesced  at  that  house,  I 
pose." 


82  THE   MILL   AGEXT. 


"  O  !  truly  I  did,  I  had  nearly  forgotten. 
It  was  the  home  of  a  physician;  body  and 
soul  were  objects  of  his  care.  Ah  !  that  good 
man,  that  healing  man  !  If  all  physicians  were 
like  him  !  Sir,  every  medical  man  should  be 
an  experimental  Christian.  How  can  men 
take  the  responsibility  of  such  a  profession, 
unless  they  know  how  to  give  comfort  to  the 
failing  soul  ?  Who  like  they  can  tell  when 
the  spirit  gives  notice  that  it  is  soon  to  quit 
its  earthly  tenement?  It  may  be  days,  it  may 
be  weeks  hence  ;  the  poor  patient  is  flattered, 
he  is  not ;  oh,  he  should  see  with  something 
else  beside  the  eye  of  science  ;  the  eye  of  pity 
and  holy  tenderness.  Who  so  easily  as  he  in 
his  daily  visit,  can  drop  a  word  that  may  save 
a  soul  ?  In  the  poorest  and  most  wretched 
outcast  he  would  behold  a  being  capable  of 
enjoying  heaven;  compassion  and  Christian 
charity  would  mingle  soothingly  in  all  his 
offices,  he  would  gain  the  hearts  that  to  all 
other  influences  would  be  hard  as  adamant. 
Such  a  man  was  Doctor  Hall.  How  for 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  83 


weeks  he  bore  with  my  wayward  unbelief, 
leading  me  gently  along  from  doubt  to  faith  ! 
He  is  in  heaven  now,  and  so  is  that  little  child. 

0  !  blessed  day  that  I  first  saw  them  ! 

It  was  nearly  three  months  before  I  was 
able  to  move  from  my  bed,  but  sir,  the  tot 
tering  wreck  of  a  man  who  walked  with  pain, 
whose  cheeks  were  haggard,  whose  eyes  were 
hollow,  bore  in  his  heart  the  love  of  the  Lord 
Jesus.  He  was  a  new  man,  wretched  as  he 
seemed;  a  whole  man,  miserably  broken 
though  he  might  have  been  called.  Well,  sir, 

1  obtained  light  employment,  but  it  was  found 
that  a  posture  of  ease  and  confinement  with 
in  doors  were  injurious.     As  long  as  I  could, 
I   worked  and  supported   myself.      On  the 
death  of  Doctor  Hall,  I  was  taken  violently 
sick,  and  became  so  reduced  that  a  long  con 
finement  in  the  hospital  ensued.     Not  to  dwell 
upon  my  few  reverses,  I  will  only  add  that  it 
was  found  advisable  to  change  my  residence 
to  this  place,  and  here  I  might  be  supported 
by  private  charity  if  I  would,  but  I  am  hap- 


84  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


pier  as  I  am.  My  influence  is  limited,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  is  a  blessing  to  have  the  little  I 
do.  There  are  a  few  Christians  in  this  work 
house,  sir ;  it  is  not  late  ;  suppose  you  go  in 
with  me  and  speak  a  word  or  two  of  comfort. 
There  are  some  sorely  suffering,  sir." 

As  he  said  this  the  old  man  arose,  and  Guil- 
ford  followed  him  into  a  dreary  looking  hall, 
out  of  which  several  doors  opened  into  differ 
ent  rooms.  A  few  aged  paupers  sat  here  at 
the  long  table,  spectacles  on  nose,  reading 
wTith  great  avidity.  They  looked  up  in  a 
pleasant  way  to  the  old  man  as  he  came  along, 
having  a  gentle  word  for  each. 

"Here,  sir,  is  one  of  the  saddest  cases," 
said  Guilford's  companion,  opening  a  door. 
At  first  sight  the  young  man  thought  that  he 
beheld  a  corpse,  so  deathly,  so  emaciated  was 
the  countenance  that  met  his  view.  The  eyes 
were  closed,  but  the  person  was  not  asleep, 
as  Guilford  soon  ascertained  by  noticing  the 
figure.  It  lay  extended  on  the  bed,  and  was 
so  thin  that  it  made  very  little  show  under 
the  bed-clothes. 


PIOUS   GOLDBY.  85 


"What  is  the  matter?"  queried  Guilford, 
startled  but  interested. 

KA  case  of  spinal  disease,"  replied  the 
other;  "he  does  not  hear  us,  as  he  is  quite 
deaf.  But  he  has  lain  there,  with  no  power 
to  move  any  part  of  his  body  but  his  head  for 
nine  years." 

"O,  terrible  !"  exclaimed  Guilford,  deep 
pity  in  his  face. 

The  old  man  had  approached  the  bedside ; 
he  now  bent  down  and  spoke  in  a  peculiarly 
distinct  voice. 

"How  do  you  find  yourself?  " 

"  O  !  nicely,  nicely  to-night,"  was  the  re 
sponse,  accompanied  with  a  smile,  a  very 
feeble  smile,  however. 

"  Have  you  thought  of  what  I  told  you  to 
day?"  asked  the  old  man,  still  talking  to  the 
paralytic. 

"O  !  yes,  if  He  don't  say  in  person,  'take 
up  thy  bed  and  walk,'  He  says  in  spirit,  '  I 
will,  be  thou  clean.'" 

"You  have   remembered  it  well,  David," 


86  THE    MILL    AGEXT. 


was  the  response.  "He  is  very  feeble  in 
mind,"  added  the  old  gentleman  turning  to 
Guilford.  "  I  have  to  prop  him  constantly. 
He  has  got  so  that  he  can  repeat  a  text  of 
Scripture  through  a  day ;  two  months  ago  he 
could  hardly  repeat  it  after  me. 

"  Who  is  it  says  that,  David  ? "   asked  the 
old  man  turning  again  to  the  patient. 

"  Jesus  Christ,  sir." 
.  "And  you  want  to  believe  in  Him?" 

"O,  yes,  sir — indeed  I  do." 

w  I  can't  make  him  comprehend ;"  continued 
old  Mr.  Goldby,  "what  he  must  do  to  be 
come  a  Christian ;  that  simple  belief  and  trust 
in  Him,  are  all  that  are  requisite  to  give  him 
a  peace  and  joy  beyond  expression.  But, 
poor  fellow,  his  extreme  patience  and  gentle 
ness  gives  me  hope  that  he  is  one  of  Christ's 
own  children.  I  don't  doubt  that  if  I  con 
tinue,  never  growing  weary  in  this  work  of 
my  Master,  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  him  happy  in  the  love  of  God.  You 
must  pray  for  him,  Mr.  Coit — he's  a  great  suf 
ferer  at  times. 


PIOUS    GOLDBY.  87 


M  Willingly  will  I  pray  for  him,  and  assist 
you,"  murmured  the  agent ;  "  this  is  a  season 
of  refreshment  to  me,  thank  God  !  that  he  has 
led  me  to  enjoy  as  a  pleasure,  that  which  to 
the  thoughtless  souls  in  yonder  ball-room 
would  seem  a  task  and  a  weariness." 

"  In  this  room,"  said  the  old  man,  looking 
cautiously  in,  "  is  a  woman  who  is  considered 
hopelessly,  though  harmlessly  insane.  She 
has  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  not  the  least 
of  which  is  the  desertion  of  her  children. 
Still,  I  have  some  hopes  that  her  mind  is  now 
more  open  to  religious  impressions  than  it  has 
ever  been.  She  will  listen  to  me,  when  she 
will  hear  nothing  from  the  rest.  Sometimes 
she  imagines,  by  my  gray  hairs,  that  I  am  her 
father,  and  when  she  does,  I  can  easily  impress 
her  mind  with  religious  truths.  I  have  no 
doubt  but  she  will  ultimately  find  peace,  and 
in  that  way  be  cured  of  her  sad  affliction.  I 
think  perhaps  it  would  not  be  better  for  us  to 
go  up  in  the  sick  wards,  but  some  day  if  you 
will  come  here,  I  can  show  you  some  interest- 
ins:  cases." 


88  THE    MILL   AGEXT. 

This  Guilford  assured  him  he  would  do. 
He  was  full  of  admiration  for  this  old  man, 
and  noted  the  elegance  of  his  conversation, 
the  quiet  grace  of  his  manner,  his  unpresuniing 
but  deep  piety,  with  unconscious  surprise. 
The  fact  of  having  seen  him  at  his  humble 
employment,  having  heard  him  sneered  at  as 
"pious  Goby,"  only  strengthened  his  convic 
tion  of  the  sterling  worth  of  this  noble  old 
man ;  nor  was  he  surprised  to  learn  that  he 
was  looked  up  to  by  the  authorities  of  the 
town,  that  in  fact,  he  was  nominally  at  the 
head  of  the  establishment,  by  virtue  of  his 
superior  aptitude  and  eminent  piety.  Those 
who  have  little  or  no  religion  admire  and  trust 
it  in  others. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

AT    THE    MILLS. 

ST  WAS  with  the  consciousness  of  having 
spent  a  memorable  and  profitable  evening, 
that  Guilford,  at  a  late  hour,  drew  near  the 
tavern.  Long  before  he  had  gained  its  vicin 
ity,  the  soft  tones  of  harmonious  music 
reached  him.  Divested  of  its  coarser  features 
and  heard  in  connection  with  the  calm  even 
ing,  the  radiant  moonlight  and  his  own 
thoughtful  state  of  mind,  its  effect  was  rather 
soothing  than  otherwise ;  but  as  he  drew 
nearer,  the  clash  and  crash,  the  sound  of 
springing  feet,  (none  the  lightest) ,  the  loud, 
coarse  laugh,  and  jingle  of  glasses,  jarred  on 
his  spirit,  and  he  could  see  the  thoughtless 
revelry  from  the  road. 

"How  gay  they  seem  ! "  he  murmured ;  "  and 
yet  there  are  bitter  jealousies  and  cruel  rival- 

89 


90  THE    MILL   AGENT. 

ries  in  that  small  space.  How  many  of  them, 
I  wonder,  will  go  with  pure  hearts  to  their 
bedsides  to-night,  and  with  prayers  on  their 
lips  ?  Poor  Austin  Grande  !  striving  to  feed 
his  soul  on  the  miserable  husks  of  folly ; 
tasting  of  dead-sea-apples  whose  ashes  settle 
in  his  heart ;  I  wish  he  knew  what  real  com 
fort  and  peace  there  are  to  be  found  in  serving 
the  only  true  God." 

Was  it  a  sigh,  so  close  to  him  ?  Pie  turn 
ed — there  stood  Austin  Grande  at  the  distance 
of  a  few  feet  only ;  he  must  have  heard  him. 
If  he  had,  however,  he  did  not  imply  it  by 
his  manner. 

"It  was  so  warm  up  there,"  he  said,  at 
tempting  a  laugh,  "  I  came  off  to  get  cooled, 
and  was  lying  down  here  when  you  first 
halted." 

"How  are  you  enjoying  yourself?"  asked 
Guilford. 

"  O  !  royally — never  had  a  better  time  in 
my  life.  Colonel  Leffingwell  has  just  gone — 
I  came  out  with  him,  and  pretty  Miss  Mary 


AT   THE    MILLS. 


has  been  there.  Merric  is  over  there  now, 
you  will  like  Merric — anything  but  one  of 
your  sort,  you  know ;  but  then  you're  sure  to 
like  him,  because  he's  one  of  the  winning 
kind.  Miss  Mary  asked  after  you,  but  her 
father  told  her  you  never  attended  balls  from 
principle.  I  was  close  beside  them,  and  you 
should  have  seen  her  open  her  eyes. 

"  Why !  what  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ?  "  she 
asked,  "  and  what  do  you  think  the  Colonel 
answered  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  replied  Guilford. 

( '  O  !  he 's  one  of  the  pious  Goby  sort,'  ha, 
ha ;  I  laughed  in  spite  of  myself." 

"  He  gave  me  a  high  compliment,"  said 
Guilford,  gravely. 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  you'd  think  so,  but  I  can 
tell  you  Miss"  Mary  did  not.  You  should  have 
seen  her  lip  curl." 

"The  approbation  of  a  greater  than  she 
fills  my  heart,"  said  Guilford;  ""all  the  Marys 
and  Colonel  Lcffingwells  in  the  world  have 
not  power  enough  to  draw  me  from  Christ. 


92  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


I  dread  neither  their  sneers  nor  their  con 
tempt.  I  wish  neither  for  their  favor  or  ap 
plause,  save  in  the  way  of  my  duty.  My 
foundation  is  a  sure  one — heaven  help  them  it 
their's  should  fail  them  !  " 

Austin  Grande  was  suddenly  silent.  He 
walked  on  with  Guilford  to  the  door.  Two 
or  three  half-drunken  men  talked  idly  and 
wandered  round,  still  the  mixing  of  liquors 
could  be  heard,  and  voices  calling  for  more. 
There  they  parted,  Guilford  to  seek  his  cham 
ber,  which  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
house,  Austin  to  join  the  dancers,  but  with  an 
awakened  conscience  and  uneasy  mind. 

Very  sweet  was  Guilford's  communion  with 
God,  that  night.  He  knelt  down  near  the 
open  window  to  be  farthest  from  the  noise 
and  confusion,  and  there,  tracing  the  hand 
writing  of  his  God  amid  the  stars,  he  remain 
ed  in  a  silent  trance  of  love  and  adoration. 
"Thou  art  giving  me  larger  shares  of  grace," 
he  murmured,  "because  thou  dost  see  my 
new,  and  enlarging  temptations,  my  new  and 


AT   THE   MILLS.  93 


perhaps  bitter  trials.  Father,  I  thank  thee 
that  thou  dost  deem  me  worthy.  Thou  hast 
taken  me  from  the  pit  of  miry  clay ;  hence 
forth  I  am  thine,  do  with  me  as  thou  wilt." 

Some  little  time  before  sunrise,  but  when 
its  coming  light  made  objects  perceptible, 
Guilford  was  awakened  by  a  slight  noise. 
Austin  Grande  had  just  seated  himself  at  a 
window.  His  throat  was  bared,  his  thick 
hair  thrown  back  from  a  flushed  forehead,  and 
his  eyes  were  restless. 

""  What !  are  you  up  so  early  ?  "  asked  Guil 
ford,  half  lifting  himself  from  his  pillow. 

"  Up  !  you  don't  suppose  I've  been  to  bed, 
do  you  ?  "  asked  Austin  with  a  short  laugh. 

"  Haven't  you  really  been  to  bed,  at  all  ?  " 
queried  Guilford,  in  astonishment. 

"$0,  to  be  sure  I  haven't,"  replied  Austin. 
"  I  can  never  go  to  sleep  after  a  dance ;  my 
temperament  is  such  a  wide  awake  one  when 
there's  anything  exciting  going  on.  I  should 
make  a  queer  Methodist,  I  fancy,  should  live 
on  faith  and  sleep  on  hallelujahs." 


94  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


"  Don't,  don't !  Austin,"  said  Guilford,  in  a 
hurt  tone,  "don't  make  sport  of  religion. 
You'll  be  sorry  for  it,  some  time." 

"I  may  turn  out  as  good  a  Christian  as  you, 
yet,"  said  Austin,  lightly." 

"  O  !  don't  say  that,"  cried  Guilford,  still  in 
the  same  tender  tones  of  remonstrance,  "  you 
make  me  feel  my  shortcomings  wofully.  That 
you  may  be  a  Christian  is  my  fervent  prayer, 
but  take  Christ,  and  Him  only,  as  your  pat 
tern." 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  am  particularly  anxious, '» 
replied  Austin,  in  whom  the  spirit  of  vindic- 
tiveness  was  rising,  "it  is  not  my  way  to 
parade  my  feelings,  and  make  a  show  of  my 
principles  on-  all  occasions.  If  religion  calls 
for  that,  I'm  sure  I  shan't  become  a  disciple. 
You  professors  think  that  if  a  man  enjoys 
himself,  he  must  go  to  perdition.  I  hate  such 
narrow  mindeduess ;  I  tell  you  I  hate  it ! " 

Guilford  was  silent  for  some  moments,  then 
he  said,  gently,  most  sweetly  and  gently, 
"wouldn't  it  be  better  for  you,  my  friend, 


AT   THE   MILLS.  95 


to  lie  down  and  get  a  little  rest  ?  I'm  afraid 
the  day's  duties  will  be  too  much  for  you,  if 
you  don't." 

"Don't  worry,"  said  Austin,  curtly,  un 
graciously,  and  yet  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 
He  was  angry  with  Guilford  because  he  felt 
how  immeasurably  above  him  were  the  rules 
upon  which  he  formed  his  life  ;  still,  he  was 
angry  also  with  himself  that  he  allowed  the 
mastery  of  his  evil  disposition,  for  with  all 
his  bitter  language  against  religion,  he  vaunt 
ed  himself  upon  his  morality,  called  himself 
better  than  many  who  were  not  of  the  world. 

"I  believe  I  will  rise,"  said  Guilford,  a 
moment  after. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  all  the  room  there  is 
here,  to  pray  in,"  said  Austin,  and  with  this 
unkind,  ungracious  speech  he  left  the  cham 
ber. 

It  was  not  long  before  Guilford,  who  had 
been  some  time  through  with  his  toilet  saw 
the  face  of  Austin  at  the  door.  In  he  came, 
impulsively. 


96  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

"  Guilford,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  want  you  to 
forgive  me." 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  agent,  with  smiling 
earnestness,  w  I  have  nothing  to  forgive." 

w  Don't  say  that.  I  have  been  most  im 
pertinent  to  you,  this  morning.  The  fact  is, 
things  went  wrong  last  night,  and  just  now  I 
wasn't  quite  myself.  Don't  look  so  hor 
rified  ;  I  mean  that  I  was  cross,  hateful,  bear 
ish  ;  I  never  drink,  you  will  find  nie  guiltless 
of  that  fault,  whatever  else  I  do.  I  won't  ask 
you  to  put  up  with  my  waywardness,  that 
would  be  too  much;  but  please  remember 
that  I  am  a  poor,  nervous  being,  easily  in 
fluenced  ;  would  to  heaven  I  were  not,"  he 
added,  almost  passionately. 

w  Austin,  will  you  let  me  say — " 

wKo,  no;  don't  talk  to  me  now,  I  beg," 
cried  the  young  man,  stepping  back  a  little  ; 
w  I  shall  only  say  something  that  will  hurt  your 
feelings.  £ut  putting  religion  aside,  I  am 
sure  I  wish  to  act  like  a  gentleman,  and  some 
how  when  you  mention  some  things,  it  heats 


AT  THE  MILLS.  97 

my  blood,  and  I  feel  the  risings  of  a  temper 
that  is  not  easily  stirred.  But  Goilford  Coit, 
understand  me,  I  like  you ;  don't  feel  that  you 
are  in  the  way,  though  yon  would  be  quite 
justified  in  leaving  my  company  this  minute. 
I  like  you,  but  I  have  an  unaccountable  dislike 
to  your  profession.  However,  if  yon  are 
all  right,  perhaps  you  are;  perhaps  I  am 
wrong ;  who  knows  what  may  happen  in  time  ? 
I  am  not  a  happy  man,  I  long  ago  gave  up  the 
hope  of  ever  being  one.  To  speak  the  truth, 
I  am  often  weary  of  my  life.  Why?  That 
I  can't  tell  you.  I  love  to  look  in  your  nice 
sometimes,  there  is  such  a  peace  there;  I 
shall  never  know  peace,  never,  never." 

wDo  you  forbid  me  to  speak  to  you  upon 
the  important  subject  of  your  soul's  salvation  ?  " 
asked  Guilford,  solemnly.  n  Dare  you  take  the 
responsibility  of  a  command  involving  such 
weighty  consequences  ?  " 

"  I  don't  wish  a  word  said  about  it,  not  a 
word,"  exclaimed  Austin,  briefly. 

w  Then  you  and  I  must  part,"  said  Guilford, 
sadly,  quietly. 


98  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

"Part!  why?"  exclaimed  Austin,  almost 
breathless. 

"  I  love  you  too  much  already,  to  leave  you 
in  your  fancied  security.  If  I  am  where  you 
are,  I  must  speak  to  you  of  Christ." 

Austin  turned  away.  It  was  singular  how 
deep  an  affection  for  this  stranger  had  sprung 
up  in  his  heart ;  seemed  so  deeply  seated  that 
it  gave  him  a  pang  to  feel  that  they  might  be 
separated.  His  features  worked  with  emo 
tion,  a  struggle  was  going  on  in  his  soul. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  promise,"  said 
Guilford,  deeply  moved,  "  not  to  intrude  upon 
you  at  unseasonable  times ;  to  wait  till  you 
seem  to  lead,  as  you  have  on  several  occasions, 
as  you  will  again,  believe  me,  for  the  spirit  is 
not  done  with  you  yet.  Austin,  my  friend, 
will  you  let  me  promise  this  ?  " 

Austin  walked  rapidly  to  the  window.  A 
sense  of  such  utter  desolation  had  come  over 
him  at  the  thought  of  losing  the  constant  com 
panionship  of  this  noble  young  man,  that  it 
amounted  to  absolute  pain.  And  yet,  the 


AT   THE    MILLS.  99 

hatred,  it  can  be  called  by  no  more  gentle 
name,  that  possessed  his  heart  and  his  imagin 
ation  towards  the  humility  and  self-denial,  and 
lowly-mindedness  of  the  religion  adopted  by 
his  friend,  sprang  up,  fiend-like,  and  importun 
ed  him  to  give  no  heed  to  his  counsels,  to 
break  with  him,  rather,  then  and  there.  But 
a  better  spirit  prevailed.  Whether  he  saw 
the  mournful  eyes  of  the  mother,  who  amidst 
all  her  suffering  had  been  the  gentlest  of 
Christians,  whether  he  heard  her  voice  plead 
ing  in  the  secret  recesses  of  his  heart,  or 
whether  the  mere  admiration  of  the  agent, 
the  magnetism,  as  it  were,  of  a  finer  and 
nobler  nature  than  his  own,  attracted  his 
sympathies,  cannot  be  told. 

"  If  you  will  wait  till  I  lead,  or  seem  to 
lead,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand,  frankly, 
"  then  I  give  you  permission,  with  all  my 
heart,  for  I  can't  lose  you." 

"  Thank  you  !  God  be  thanked  !  "  said  Guil- 
ford,  fervently.  At  that  moment  the  bell 
rang  for  breakfast.  Little  Hager  stood  at  her 


100  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

post,  as  usual,  but  the  eyes,  wont  to  be  so 
sparkling,  the  cheeks,  usually  rose-red,  were 
languid  and  pale.  The  dissipation  of  the  pre 
vious  night  told  upon  her  with  startling  effect ; 
she  looked  sad,  jaded  and  wearied.  She 
brightened  a  little  when  Austin  asked  her 
about  the  ball. 

"I  never  enjoyed  myself  so  much  in  my 
life,"  she  said  frankly ;  then  as  she  marked  the 
pitying  glance  of  Guilford,  she  blushed  crim 
son,  for  she  had  heard  the  whisper  that  went 
the  rounds  of  the  ball-room,  that  this  young 
man  thought  it  a  sin  to  spend  time  in  such 
amusements,  and  she  felt  in  her  very  soul, 
little  as  she  had  thought  of  such  things,  that 
-it  was  no  place  for  him.  But  if  wrong  for 
him,  why  was  it  not  injurious  for  her,  for 
those  who  had  spent  the  night  in  such  a  scene 
of  vanity  and  frivolity?  This  thought  was 
but  the  opening  wedge  for  others.  She  began 
to  analyse  her  own  motives,  in  a  vague  and 
childish  way,  to  be  sure,  for  it  was  a  new  oc 
cupation  co  her,  but  none  the  less  seriously 


AT   THE   MILLS.  101 


and  faithfully.  She  brought  the  scene  before 
her.  There  was  Betty  Day,  whose  mother 
was  so  poor,  whose  little  brothers  and  sisters 
were  never  decently  clothed,  and  yet  there 
was  Betty,  one  of  the  best  dressed  girls  in  the 
room,  with  showy  gold  ear-rings  and  a  gold 
bracelet,  all  bought  at  the  expense  of  proper 
food  and  clothing  for  the  poor  mother  and 
little  brothers  and  sisters  at  home.  If  it  were 
not  for  this  exciting  pleasure,  perhaps  Betty 
would  think  more  of  her  higher  duties,  but 
she  was  vain  and  wished  to  look  as  well  as  the 
rest.  Then  there  was  Frank  Alford,  who 
they  said  if  kept  away  from  the  sight  of  liquor 
would  never  touch  it ;  how  terribly  drunk  he 
was,  and  how  some  of  the  others,  who  ought 
to  know  better,  would  coa.x  him  down  to  treat 
them.  She  knew  there  must  be  a  large  score 
against  him  on  the  wall  of  her  father's  bar, 
and  her  cheek  grew  hotter  than  ever  at  the 
thought  of  the  poor,  kind  old  mother,  from 
whom  so  much  of  her  daily  support  must  be 
taken  at  the  end  of  the  month — for  it  would 

• 


102  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


break  fearfully  into  his  wages,  and  what  had 
he  to  show  for  it,  save  the  disgrace  of  the  sot? 

She  turned  to  Sarah,  who  had  her  own  sad 
thoughts,  and  said,  "what  do  you  think, 
Sarah ;  you  know  how  it  was  last  night.  Isn't 
it  all  wrong  ?  " 

"Wrong  about  dancing,  do  you  mean?" 
queried  Sarah. 

"  About  such  times  as  we  had  last  night. 
Didn't  you  see  how  badly  some  of  the  men 
behaved?" 

"  O !  that's  because  they  had  been  drink 
ing." 

"But  he  thinks  it's  dreadful,  I  know, "said 
Hager,  her  clear  eyes  taking  on  a  serious 
light. 

"And  who  is  he,  pet? — our«  new  agent,  I 
suppose  you  mean.  I  noticed  he  was  no 
where  to  be  seen.  No,  he  wouldn't  go,  be 
cause  he's  a  professor  of  religion,  and  they 
never  attend  such  places,  and  never  ought 
to,"  she  added  thoughtfully. 

"Then  if  it's  wrong  for  them,  why  isn't  it 
for  us  ?  "  queried  Hager,  earnestly. 


AT   THE   MILLS.  103 


"  Perhaps  it  is,"  responded  Sarah,  in  a  low 
voice,  a  flush  coming  to  her  cheek ;  "  that  is  so 
far  as  it  makes  us  wish  for  the  pleasure  for  the 
sake  of  being  seen,  of  showing  off  finery,  or 
enjoying  the  mere  excitement  of  motion.  I 
never  felt  so  tired  of  it  as  I  did  last  night ; 
some  way  I  was  provoked  with  myself  for 
going." 

"Maybe  Mr.  Coit  will  make  us  all  feel  so," 
said  Hager,  innocently.  "You  don't  know 
how  solemn  like,  and  yet  it  was  beautiful,  he 
talked  to  me  the  night  before.  -I  was  making 
wreaths  that  are  all  faded  now,  poor  things, 
and  he  told  me  what  fine  taste  I  had.  He 
iasked  me  did  I  like  dancing ;  and  I  told  him 
how  much  I  enjoyed  it.  Well,  I  can't  remem 
ber  all  he  said;  at  any  rate,  he  spoke  of  hav 
ing  higher  pleasures  now;  he  had  given 
himself,  he  told  me,  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  found,  oh  !  so  much  joy  in  serving  Him. 
You  ought  to  have  seen  his  face  when  he  said 
it.  Then  when  I  said  we  had  no  church, 
why !  you  never  saw  any  one  give  such  a 


104  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


look — it  made  me  feel  as  guilty  !  and  I  'm  sure 
I  never  thought  of  the  thing  before." 

"  Is  that  all  he  talked  about ;  "  asked  Sarah 
Church,  her  eyes  bent  on  her  work. 

"Yes,  that's  all  he  said  then,  but  somehow 
there's  something  about  him  that's  always 
talking  even  when  he  don't  speak  a  word,  he 
looks  so  good  !  " 

"  So  he  does  ;"  said  the  drunkard's  daughter, 
thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY. 

H  E  Sabbath  day  came,  sunny  and 
serene.  Tristam  Saint  had  held  sev 
eral  conferences  with  his  wife  with  reference 
to  the  new  agent,  while  at  the  same  tune  he 
had  sedulously  kept  himself  out  of  his  way. 
It  was  strange,  but  true,  that  Hulda  Saint  had 
seemed  a  different  woman  since  Guilford 
Coit  had  come  to  the  tavern.  She  had  al 
ways  been  a  quiet  body,  meek  and  placid, 
but  now  from  under  the  quaint,  frilled  border 
of  her  cap,  her  eyes  looked  with  a  more  con 
tented  light,  for  she  often  said  to  herself.  "  I 
know  good  will  come  of  it.  I  was  certain 
from  the  first,  that  good  would  come  of  it." 

Tristam  Saint  always  made  a  show  of  keep 
ing  his  bar  closed  on  the  Sabbath. 


106  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"  I'm  glad  of  that,"  said  Guilford,  pointing 
to  the  barred  door. 

"Glad  of  what?"  echoed  Austin   Grande. 

"  That  our  landlord  keeps  his  bar  closed  on 
the  Sabbath.  I  was  afraid  he  did  not." 

w  Neither  does  he,  there's  a  back  door  to 
this  establishment,"  replied  Austin,  seiiten- 
tiously,  "that's  open  all  day  and  many  a  good 
customer  goes  through  it,  too." 

w Is  that  a  fact?  "  queried  Guilford,  in  con 
sternation.  "  Worse  and  worse  ;  if  this  thing 
continues  I  must  either  remonstrate  or  leave 
my  boarding-place." 

"  What  good  do  you  think  you  would  do  ?  " 
asked  Austin,  with  an  incredulous  smile. 

"  I  should  do  my  duty,"  replied  the  young 
man.  K  Now  if  you  were  with  me,  might  we 
not  move  the  town  ?  Christ  has  given  a  great 
promise  to  only  two  or  three  met  in  his  name." 

K  Never  mind,"  replied  Austin,  uneasily,  "  I 
tell  you  once  for  all,  there's  no  use  in  talking 
with  me.  I  don't  see  things  as  you  do ;  I 
can't ;  it  isn't  in  me.  I  shall  try  to  do  right, 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY.      107 


but  as  for  this  extra  work,  this  going  through 
a  spiritual  mill  to  be  ground  over,  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  it,  and  what's  more,  it  is  at  variance 
with  my  common  sense  ;  I  can't  believe  it." 

w  It  is  not  at  variance  with  the  Bible,"  said 
Guilford,  softly. 

ff  There  it  is  again.  The  Bible,  don't  you 
see,  my  friend,  is  to  me  like  a  kaleidoscope, 
which  shows  to  every  one,  different  forms  and 
colors,  although  the  same  bits  of  colored  glass 
give  shape  to  the  varying  figures." 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  compare  the  words  of 
One  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  to  worth 
less,  painted  glass,"  said  Guilford,  rebuking- 

iy- 

w  Pshaw  !  don't  take  things  so  seriously ;  of 
course  I  have  respect  for  the  old  writers  of 
the  Book  of  books,  as  it  is  named,  for  him 
who  is  considered  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
and  all  that ;  but  then,  my  meaning  is  this,  I 
don't  translate  the  Bible  in  your  language, 
Perhaps  what  you  would  call  white  I  should 
call  black  and  vice  versa." 


108  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


Guilford  was  pained  at  this  return  of  levity. 

"  Take  a  cigar  ?  "  said  Austin,  coolly  offering 
one  of  the  costliest. 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Austin ;  I  gave  up  my 
cigars  not  long  after  my  wine  drinking,  my 
billiard-playing,  my  theatre  going ;  no  more 
cigar  smoking  for  me." 

"  Come  now,"  and  Austin  surveyed  him 
with  a  cool,  steady  stare,  "you  don't  pretend 
that  you  consider  cigar-smoking  a  sin ;  I 
might  agree  about  the  other  things,  and  even 
those  I  should  only  dub  follies,  but  the  idea 
that  smoking  is  a  sin,  that's  what  I  call  ridic 
ulously  fanatical.  For  goodness  sake  en 
lighten  me,  what  sin  do  you  make  of  smoking, 
you  old  young  man,  you?" 

"I  was  thinking,"  said  the  other,  coming 
out  of  a  little  brown  study  that  had  left  some 
agreeable  reflection  in  the  form  of  a  smile  that 
touched  lip  and  brow  with  sunshine,  "  of  old 
aunt  Ann  Phipps." 

"  What  in  the  world  has  that  to  do  with  ci 
gar-smoking  ?  " 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOUKNEY.      109 

"Much  every  way  with  mine.  Aunt  Ann 
Phipps  was  a  queer  old  woman,  and  because 
queer,  neglected.  She  had  a  house,  such  as 
it  was,  the  foolish  boys  called  it  Jolly  Castle. 
There  was  scarcely  more  than  one  room  at  all 
habitable,  but  aunt  Ann  managed  to  live  in 
that.  The  poor  old  soul  was  a  church-mem 
ber,  but  had  grown  strange  in  her  years,  and 
neglected  the  "  meetin ,"  as  she  called  it .  There 
was  something  disjointed  in  her  poor  mind. 
Probably  a  long  life  .of  poverty  had  embittered 
her.  What  made  matters  still  worse  for  her, 
she  had  a  brother  who  was  very  rich,  who  in 
town  lived  in  style,  and  utterly  ignored  the 
poor  soul  because  she  was  not  as  others  were. 
Shall  I  go  on  about  aunt  Ann  Phipps  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  tell  your  story,  though  I  don't 
see  what  that  has  to  do  with  smoking." 

"  You  shall.  Aunt  Phipps  is  forever  da- 
guerreotyped  on  my  memory.  She  wore  a 
red  calash,  a  green  veil,  a  short  black  quilted 
petticoat  that  came  only  to  her  ankles,  a  bed 
gown,  as  the  people  used  to  call  it,  looped  up 


110  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


in  a  ridiculous  fashion;  in  short,  had  she 
stepped  out  of  some  antique  picture-frame 
a  hundred  years  ago,  she  could  not  have  look 
ed  more  provokingly  queer.  I  never  met  her 
without  such  an  inclination  to  mirthfulness  as 
obliged  me  to  turn  my  head.  I  believe  peo 
ple  got  tired  of  old  aunt  Ann.  Her  bluntness, 
for  she  was  always  saying  the  most  unpleasant 
things  in  an  aggravating  way  of  her  own, 
made  her  visits  distasteful.  She  was  tolerat 
ed  by  the  lady  I  then  boarded  with,  but  she 
frequently  returned  her  kindness  by  ungrate 
ful  remarks.  I  remember  her  saying  once 
when  she  came  in,  f  Miss  Butts,  that  cheese 
you  gave  me  wasn't  fit  for  a  dog,  child,  I 
don't  see  how  your  boarders  can  eat  it.' 

'  Why  didn't  you  bring  it  back  ! '  asked  the 
good  lady. 

'  La  !  I  gave  it  to  the  cat.' 

"And  yet  with  all  this  eccentricity  there  was 
genuine  good  in  the  woman.  She  was  scru 
pulously  neat  and  clean,  and  her  one  great 
trouble  was  the  fear  that  she  might  yet  have 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY.      Ill 

to  go  to  the  poor  house.  For  an  old  woman 
like  her,  she  certainly  fought  hard  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.  She  planted  her  own 
little  patch  with  vegetables  and  knit  and  spun 
while  she  had  any  strength.  It  was  a 
picturesque  sight  to  see  her  sitting  in  the  low 
doorway  of  the  ruined  house,  the  high  colors 
which  she  always  contrived  to  wear,  contrast 
ing  with  the  gloom  and  dinginess  within. 
Old  aunt  Ann  Phipps  always  smoked  a  short 
pipe." 

"Ah  ha!"  said  Austin,  "there  comes  the 
moral." 

"No,  it  don't — for  Aunt  Ann  smoked  till 
she  died.  Nobody  had  the  heart  to  interfere 
with  her  privileges,  poor  lonely  old  soul. 
One  day,  a  friend  of  mine  was  going  by  the 
ruined  house  with  me.  We  heard  sounds  of 
distress  within,  and  entered.  There  was  the 
old  creature  almost  in  convulsions,  because 
they  were  going  to  carry  her  to  the  poor 
house.  She  was  ill,  and  could  not  work. 
The  poor  soul  cried  piteously,  only  to  die  at 


112  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


home — only  not  to  be  disgraced  I  '  O,  Mr. 
Coit,'  she  pleaded,  holding  out  her  withered 
hands,  'save  me — and  the  blessing  of  the 
poor  and  needy  will  follow  you  through  life.' 
Her  streaming  eyes,  piteous  tones,  and  gray 
hair,  appealed  to  me  powerfully.  I  said  at 
once,  "  let  her  stay,  gentlemen,  I  will  be  re 
sponsible  for  her  expenses."  We  went  out, 
Adam  and  I,  and  stood  there  looking  at  each 
other." 

"It  will  be  at  the  least  calculation,  two  dol 
lars  a  week,"  he  said,  "  and  you  are  by  no 
means  rich."  Suddenly,  it  occurred  to  me, 
that.my  last  year's  cigar  bills  averaged  a  dol 
lar  a- week,  and  said  I,  "I'll  give  up  my 
cigars — that  will  pay  one  half." 

"I  don't  intend  to  be  outdone,"  Adam 
responded.  "  I'll  give  up  my  cigars  ;  and  the 
miserable  old  creature  shan't  go  to  the  poor- 
house."  We  shook  hands  upon  it,  and  were 
both,  I  doubt  not,  better  men  for  the  self- 
denial.  For  six  months,  we  took  care  of  old 
Aunt  Ann.  She  never  needed  eyes,  for  we 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY.       113 


went  regularly  to  the  tumble  down  cottage,  and 
read  to  her  by  the  hour.  Her  mind  grew 
clearer  towards  the  last.  The  broken  faculties 
were  re-united ;  the  clouds  lifted,  and  the  les 
sons  of  her  dying  hour  were  sublime  ;  I  never 
have  forgotten  them.  But  here  comes  in  the 
moral.  Finding  that  cigars  contributed  but 
little  to  my  happiness,  I  have  never  touched 
them  since,  and  I  have  thus  made  a  clear  sav 
ing  from  that  time  to  this,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  poor  and  needy,  of  nearly  eight  hundred 
dollars.  Now,  you  see,  my  friend,  that  sum 
would  have  been  expended  in  smoke." 

w  Rather  convincing."  And  Austin  put  his 
well  nigh  exhausted  cigar  to  his  lips,  and 
puffed  softly.  w  I,  however,"  he  continued 
between  the  light  spirals  that  went  curling  up 
gracefully,  "am  a  very  hardened  sinner,  I 
expect.  ,The  fact  is,  I  love  my  cigar.  It 
soothes  me  under  my  varied  trials  ;  it  consoles 
me  for  repeated  disappointments,  ;  it  is  in 
fact—" 

"  Your  substitute  for  religious  faith,"  said 

Guilford,  smiling. 


114  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

M  Well,  to  be  candid — yes  ;  I  suppose  it  is. 
You  take  a  fellow  up  so  quickly  !  but,  I  suppose 
that's  the  amount  of  the  matter.  I  don't  feel 
any  particular  movings  of  religious  faith,  that's 
certain — and  I  do  feel  better  for  a  good  cigar. 
Yes  :  I  suppose  it  comes  to  that."  He  laugh 
ed  as  he  spoke,  but  he  was  conscious  of  a  dead 
weight  upon  his  soul,  and  an  inner  longing 
that  all  possessions  failed  to  satisfy.  He  was 
far  from  being  happy,  and  that  consciousness 
mixed  gall  in  his  cup  of  pleasure. 

It  was  a  charming  walk  for  Guilford  along 
roads  scented  with  thousands  of  dewy  flowers. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  birds  sang  more  sweetly, 
because  it  was  the  Sabbath  morning.  The 
people  were  not  yet  stirring ;  no  smoke  came 
from  the  chimneys  of  the  farm  houses.  Soft 
ly  from  tree  to  tree  whispered  the  bland  voices 
of  summer.  How  beautiful  the  fields  were, 
their  feathery  plumes  swaying  before  tho 
light  winds  !  Lowly  they  bent  in  the  presence 
of  their  Maker,  those  ranks  of  com,  those 
armies  of  wheat,  doing  battle  only  with  air 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOUBNEY.      115 

and  sunshine.  The  hallowed  nature  of  the 
holy  day  seemed  to  brood  over  all  inanimate 
things. 

It  was  a  long  walk,  but  in  such  sweet  com 
munion  had  the  time  passed,  to  Guilford, 
communion  not  only  with  nature,  but  with 
nature's  God,  that  he  was  quite  taken  by  sur 
prise  at  sight  of  the  plain  white  spire,  rising 
beyond  the  thick  foliagcd  trees. 

O  !  it  was  good  to  see  that  house  of  God, 
good  to  see  the  well-dressed  people  flocking  to 
its  pleasant  doors. 

Happy  as  he  had  felt  before,  a  new  joy 
possessed  hiin  as  he  entered  the  sacred  place 
and  bowed  before  his  Father.  As  he  sat  there 
revolving  many  thoughts  of  the  years  gone  by, 
in  his  mind,  the  peace  of  God  that  passes  all 
understanding  filled  him  with  joy  unutterable. 
He  felt  as  if  he  could  almost  see  Jehovah, 
face  to  face,  and  earnestly  went  up  that  wrest 
ling  cry  for  Austin,  "give  me  his  soul,  oh, 
Lord ! " 

Then  was  the  worship  of  the  day  begun. 


116  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


A  venerable  man  led  in  a  simple,  seasonable, 
heart-felt  prayer.  Next  came  the  melody  so 
sacred  to  every  Christian  heart,  dear  OLD 
HUNDRED.  How  the  solemn  strains  of  that 
glorious  tune  carry  us  back  to  the  times  of  the 
reformers,  Luther  and  his  devoted  band ! 
He,  doubtless,  was  the  first  to  strike  the 
grand  old  chords  in  the  public  sanctuary  of  his 
own  beloved  Germany.  From  his  great, 
stentorian  lungs  they  rang,  vibrating,  not 
through  vaulted  cathedral  roof,  but  along  a 
grander  arch,  the  eternal  heavens !  Each 
note  was  inwrought  with  his  own  sublime 
faith,  and  stamped  with  that  faith's  immortal 
ity.  Hence  it  cannot  die.  Neither  men  nor 
angels  will  allow  it  to  pass  into  oblivion. 

Can  you  find  a  tomb  in  the  land,  where  seal 
ed  lips  lie  that  have  not  sung  that  tune  ?  If 
they  were  gray  old  men,  they  had  heard  or 
sung  Old  Hundred.  If  they  were  blue-eyed 
babes,  they  smiled  as  their  mothers  rocked 
them  to  sleep,  singing  Old  Hundred.  Sinner 
and  saint  have  joined  with  the  endless  con- 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY.       117 


gregation  where  it  has,  with  and  without  the 
pealing  organ,  sounded  on  sacred  air.  The 
dear  little  children,  looking  with  wondering 
eyes  on  this  strange  world  have  lisped  it. 
The  sweet  young  girl,  whose  tombstone  told 
of  only  sixteen  summers,  she  whose  pure  and 
innocent  face  haunted  you  with  its  mild  beau 
ty,  loved  Old  Hundred,  and  as  she  sang  it 
with  closed  eyes,  seemed  communing  with  the 
angels  who  Avere  so  soon  to  claim  her.  He 
whose  manhood  was  devoted  to  the  service  of 
his  God,  and  who,  with  faltering  steps,  as 
cended  the  pulpit  stairs,  with  white  hand 
placed  over  his  laboring  chest,  loved  Old 
Hundred.  And  though  sometimes  his  lips 
only  moved,  away  down  in  his  heart,  so  soon 
to  cease  its  throbbings,  the  holy  melody  was 
sounding. 

The  dear,  white  headed  father,  with  his 
tremulous  voice,  how  he  loved  Old  Hundred  ! 
Do  you  not  see  him  now,  seated  in  the  vener 
able  arm-chair,  his  hands  crossed  over  the  top 
of  his  cane,  and  a  tear,  perchance,  stealing 


118  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

down  his  furrowed  cheeks  as  the  noble  strains 
ring  out?  Do  you  not  hear  that  thin,  quiver 
ing,  faltering  sound  now  bursting  forth,  now 
listened  for,  almost  in  vain  ?  If  you  do  not, 
we  do  ;  and  from  such  lips,  hallowed  by  four 
score  years  service  in  the  Master's  cause,  Old 
Hundred  sounds  indeed  a  sacred  melody. 

You  may  fill  your  churches  with  choirs, 
with  Sabbath  prima  donnas,  whose  daring 
notes  emulate  the  steeple,  and  cost  almost  as 
much,  but  give  us  the  spirit-stirring  tones  of 
Old  Hundred,  sung  by  young  and  old  togeth 
er.  Martyrs  have  hallowed  it,  it  has  gone  up 
from  the  dying  beds  of  the  saints.  The 
ancient  churches,  where  generation  after  gen 
eration  has  worshipped,  and  where  many 
scores  of  the  dear  dead  have  been  carried  and 
laid  before  the  altar  where  they  gave  them 
selves  to  God,  seem  to  breathe  of  Old  Hun 
dred  from  vestibule  to  tower-top ;  the  very 
air  is  haunted  with  its  spirit.  Think  for  a 
moment  of  the  assembled  company  who  have, 
at  different  times  and  in  different  places  join- 


A  SABBATH  DAY'S  JOURNEY.       119 

ed  in  the  familiar  tune.  Throng  upon  throng, 
the  stern,  the  timid,  the  gentle,  the  brave, 
the  beautiful,  their  faces  all  beaming  with  the 
inspiration  of  the  heavenly  sounds. 

"  Old  Hundred  :  king  of  the  sacred  band  of 
ancient  melodies  !  "  thought  G-uilford  ;  "  never 
will  my  ears  grow  weary  of  hearing,  or  my 
tongue  of  singing  thee  !  And  when  we  reach 
heaven,  who  knows  but  this  will  be  the  first 
triumphant  strain  that  welcomes  us, 
'  Be  them,  0  God,  exalted  high!'  " 


CHAPTER  VIH. 

THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM. 

SABBATH  day's  journey  nearer  hea 
ven,  did  that  delightful  season  seeai. 
Guilford  dreaded  to  leave  this  pleasant,  God 
fearing  village,  for  Clifton  Locks.  Its  noise, 
its  dreary,  worldly  aspect,  came  upon  him  as 
it  never  had  before  in  contemplation.  It 
seemed  to  be  a  place  self-exiled  from  the  light 
of  God's  countenance.  He  passed  from  the 
pleasant  burying-ground  where  he  had  been 
musing  over  graves,  and  almost  with  reluct 
ance  took  his  way  home.  The  heat  of  the 
day  was  over,  and  the  sounds  of  nature  more 
animated  than  when  he  had  passed  over  the 
same  road  in  the  morning.  Children  smiled 
at  him  from  farm  house-gates,  and  stout  dogs 
gave  friendly  greetings.  Here  and  there 
might  be  seen  the  cows  on  their  homeward 


120 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          121 


track.  Sometimes  the  young  man  paused  to 
hear  a  sweet  strain  of  old  familiar  music  as  it 
floated  out  of  cottage  windows.  Now  and 
then  he  met  an  aged  man,  tottering  out  by 
the  roadside,  for  whom  he  made  obeisance 
lower  than  he  would  to  a  crowned  king.  The 
flowers  by  the  way,  were  dusty,  but  their 
fragrance  still  came  pleasantly  up.  Never  did 
the  sky  look  fresher,  bluer,  fairer ;  never  did 
the  smoke  curl  heavenward  with  more  grace 
and  lightness ;  never  seemed  the  trees  such 
pleasant  things,  throwing  long  shadows. 

Nearing  Clifton  Locks,  the  first  sight  he 
saw  was  a  brace  of  young  men,  coatless,  bear 
ing  fishing  lines,  while  in  baskets  by  their 
side,  the  dying  trout  leaped  and  lay  gasping. 
Then  as  he  passed  these  he  heard  a  drunken 
song,  and  several  couples,  men  and  women, 
glided  in  and  out  of  a  small  pine  grove,  where 
they  had  doubtless  spent  the  day.  The  farther 
he  went,  the  heavier  grew  his  heart.  Nature 
was  just  as  beautiful ;  but  man  was  vile, 
thoughtless,  Godless. 


122  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

"It  must  not  be  so,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  There  must  be  a  change ;  some  influence 
must  be  brought  to  bear  upon  this  town, 
Jesus  Christ,  must  be  preached." 

"  Just  then  he  turned  aside  at  the  sound  of 
horses'  feet.  A  gay  cavalcade  swept  past, 
headed  by  the  Colonel's  daughter,  the  win 
some,  high-hearted  Mary  Leffingwell. 

"Alas,  again,"  thought  Guilford,  as  he 
bowed  cooly;  "there  is  all  the  company  of 
Rose-Hedge  passing  the  day  in  sport  and 
pleasure ;  how  can  it  be  expected  when  such 
as  these  profane  God's  Sabbath,  that  the  peo 
ple  who  toil  all  the  week,  will  sanctify  one 
day  in  seven?  Alas!  beautiful,  vain  girl, 
God  will  not  hold  you  guiltless  in  this  thing, 
and  may  He  give  me  grace  even  to  say  the 
same  to  you ;  to  speak  the  truth  in  the  fear  of 
Christ." 

He  was  now  nearing  i  by-road  or  lane,  on 
the  outskirts  of  Clifton  Locks,  in  which  stood 
but  one  solitary  cottage,  very  small  and  mean. 
As  he  passed  by  there,  it  seemed  to  him  he 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.         123 


heard  strange  sounds.  He  paused  a  moment, 
intently  listening.  He  had  scarcely  com 
prehended  the  nature  of  the  disturbance  be 
fore  the  door  opened,  and  Sarah  Church  ap 
peared  on  the  step,  gazing  wildly  round. 
Pier  hair  was  dishevelled,  her  eyes  red  with 
weeping,  and  altogether  her  manner  and  ap 
pearance  were  calculated  to  fill  any  heart  with 
sorrow. 

"What  can  be  the  matter  with  this  poor 
girl?"  said  Guilford,  half  aloud,  as  taking  a 
few  steps,  he  presented  himself  before  her. 
She  saw  him ;  her  cheeks  crimsoned  with 
shame,  but  her  terror  impelled  her  to  cry  out, 

"O  !  sir — my  father  !  my  poor  father  !  " 

"What  is  the  matter?  pray  tell  me,"  asked 
Guilford,  entering  the  narrow,  neglected  yard. 
"If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  command 
me." 

"My  father,  sir,  is  very  unfortunate,"  and 
as  she  spoke  the  tears  began  to  fall,  rolling 
piteously  over  her  cheeks.  "  He  indulges 
sometimes  in  drink,  sir,  and  to-day — "  she 


124  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

sobbed,  almost  losing  her  self-control,  "he 
went  down  to  the  tavern  after  he  had  promised 
me — "  she  could  get  no  further.  Guilford 
pitied  her  in  her  distress  as  he  had  never 
pitied  any  one  before.  To  see  a  daughter 
forced  to  expose  the  sin  of  an  only  parent,  is 
of  all  sights,  the  saddest. 

"  He  is  silent,  just  now,"  murmured  Sarah, 
listening,  "  but  it  will  not  last  long.  O  !  sir, 
he  has  very  nearly  accomplished  an  awful 
purpose,  twice  before,  and  now  he  is  alone 
with  me,  if" — she  shuddered,  the  thought  was 
too  terrible  for  utterance. 

It  was  not  long  before  sounds  of  anguish 
filled  the  air  again.  It  was  a  fearful  sight, 
the  strong  man,  athletic,  handsome,  his  livid 
face  looking  out  from  great  meshes  of  snow- 
white  hair,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from  their 
sockets. 

"Save  me,  child,  save  me,"  he  cried,  as  his 
daughter  entered  the  room,  "there  are  ten 
thousand  devils  here  ;  they  want  to  tear  my 
soul  from  my  body;  to  clutch  my  beating 


THE  DRUNKAKD'S  DELIRIUM.          125 


heart  out  by  the  strings  and  leave  me  mangled 
and  bleeding ;  oh,  heaven  I  heaven  that  I 
have  mocked,  save  me  ! " 

" Have  you  a  Bible  near?"  asked  Guilford, 
in  a  low  tone,  "  if  so,  bring  it  here." 

The  frightened  girl  took  from  a  broken 
book-case  the  sacred  volume  that  had  belong 
ed  to  her  mother.  Guilford  opened  at  the 
fly-leaf  where,  in  a  large  bold  hand,  a  name 
was  written,  and  held  it  before  the  dilated 
eyes  of  the  rum-maniac. 

"  O  !  I  see,  I  see  I  "  he  cried  tremblingly, 
"  it  is  written  on  a  tomb-stone  in  a  grave-yard. 
Where  is  it  Sarah  ?  Where  did  I  bury  your 
mother !  Did  she  have  any  cause  of  com 
plaint  against  me,  after  she  was  dead?  An 
swer  me  that,  girl.  Did  I  not  buy  her  a  fine 
tombstone  and  place  it  —  where,  where  my 
child?" 

"  His  mind  began  to  wander  again.  That 
fearful  look  of  mania  potu,  that  gathers  in  one 
convulsed  expression,  shot  over  his  face  as  he 
turned  away  with  moans  and  cries  for  mercy ; 


126  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

cries  that  tormenting  fiends  were  Over  him. 
"O !  save  me !  save  me  for  the  sake  of  my 
poor  child,  save  me  from  their  torture  ! " 

Again  Guilford  held  up  the  Bible,  with  a 
vague  hope  that  the  sight  of  it  would  restore 
him.  "Ask  Christ,"  he  said  solemnly,  "He 
will  save  you." 

"  Christ,  Christ !  Where  is  He  ?  Give  me 
that  book ;  is  He  in  there  ?  Oh !  they  are 
coming  !  Show  me  what  I  shall  do.  Give  me 
the  Bible,  they  dare  not  touch  that,"  and  he 
snatched  the  sacred  volume  and  held  it  to  his 
bosom  convulsively. 

"  Find  the  name  of  Christ,"  he  cried  again 
more  agonized  than  before,  "quick,  quick, 
find  me  the  name  of  Christ.  See  they  are 
pouring  fire  all  over  me.  O,  I  am  in  flames, 
they  torment  me  I  they  torture  me ;  find  mo 
the  name  of  Christ." 

Guilford  turned  to  the  name  of  the  Saviour, 
he  placed  his  shaking  finger  upon  it,  crying, 
"  O  !  Christ  have  mercy,  don't  let  them  tear 
me  ;  see  the  fire  !  it  runs  from  their  hands, 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          127 

their  lips — see,  they  are  throwing  it  all  over 
the  Bible,  but  it  don't  touch  the  name  of 
Christ ;  oh  !  Christ  save  me  !  " 

Thus  did  this  victim  of  the  thrice-accursed 
ruin-traffic,  rave,  imploring  with  piteous 
shrieks,  the  legions  of  phantoms  that  crowded 
and  yelled  and  menaced,  to  let  him  alone. 
He  clung  to  the  Bible  in  all  his  agony ;  he 
clung  to  the  name  of  Christ,  until,  exhausted 
with  his  fearful  struggle,  he  sank  into  a  strange 
stupor  that  looked  like  death.  Guilford  pro 
vided  aid  for  the  unhappy  man,  and  then  left 
the  cottage,  his  heart  sinking  within  him  as  he 
thought  of  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  since  he 
left  the  pleasant  church  in  which  he  had  wor 
shipped. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  he  reached  the 
tavern.  Austin  lay  stretched  on  the  settee 
outside  the  door,  composedly  smoking.  He 
seemed  to  know  Guilford's  step,  for  he  sprang 
up  as  he  neared  him,  with  an  expression  of 
hearty  welcome. 

"  I'm  tired  as  a  dog,"  he  said  languidly,  in 


128  THE  AIILL  AGENT. 

reply  to  Guilford's  question.  "It's  no  fun  to 
ply  a  couple  of  oars,  with  a  hot  sun  raining 
fire  upon  you." 

Guilford  shuddered;  he  had  so  recently 
heard  those  fearful  words,  and  in  connection 
with  such  circumstances  I 

K  You  look  a  little  under  the  weather,"  said 
Austin,  scanning  his  friend  closely,  "  didn't 
your  walk  agree  with  you?  " 

Guilford  assured  him  that  it  did ;  then  re 
lated  the  scene  that  had  so  unnerved  him. 

"  Terrible  !  terrible  ! "  exclaimed  Austin, 
"  but  the  old  fool !  what  does  he  drink  for  ? 
don't  he  know  better  than  to  torture  that  girl 
to  death?  and  she  supporting  him  hi  his 
laziness?  It's  too  bad!" 

Guilford  was  silent,  as  he  thought  of  the 
gospel  word,  that  man  was  as  guilty  in  break 
ing  one  command  as  though  he  transgressed 
in  all.  He  passed  along,  however,  intending 
to  go  to  his  room,  when  Austin  called  him. 

r  Come  and  sit  down  here,"  he  said ;  "there 
is  no  noise ;  people  get  beat  out  here,  on  Sun- 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          129 


day,  and  go  to  bed  early.  I  want  to  talk  to 
you — or  rather,  I  want  you  to  talk  with  me." 

"  Willingly,"  said  Guilford,  seating  himself; 
r  what  shall  I  talk  about?" 

"  Well,"  Austin  hesitated,  "  it's  been  on  my 
mind  to  ask  you,  more  than  once,  how  you 
got  in  this  state ;  how  you  experienced  this 
change,  I  believe  you  call  it." 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Guilford,  with  a  joy 
ful  bound  at  his  heart ;  "  I  will  most  gladly 
tell  you.  In  the  first,  place  I  was  once  an 
infidel,  and  very  nearly  a  deist.  I  had  a  cir 
cle  of  friends,  who  had  led  me  to  think  as 
they  did.  There  were  eight  of  us,  who  had 
banished  the  Word  from  our  homes  and 
hearts — seven  of  them  energetic,  sturdy, 
robust  men,  made  in  the  image  of  the  Crea 
tor.  From  sceptical  readings,  we  each  one  of 
us  fell  in  with  free-thinking  associates,  and 
the  result  was  a  combination  of  intellect, 
means  and  tastes,  by  which  we  hoped  to  make 
our  way  and  our  fortunes  in  the  world. 

"  We  were  all  young  men,  the  oldest  not 


130  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

yet  twenty-four,  and  AVC  decided,  at  one  of 
our  meetings,  to  form  a  union  with  some 
others,  who  agreed  with  us  in  principles,  and 
who  were  in  the  main,  too  selfish  to  think  of 
anything  outside  of  their  own  wants  and 
desires,  to  set  off  for  the  West,  where  we 
might  found  a  town,  and  raise  a  city  in  the 
midst  of  the  wilderness.  People  from  every 
part  of  the  Eastern  States,  but  more  particu 
larly  from  New  England,  were  then  emi 
grating  in  great  numbers,  carrying  with  them, 
as  we  sneeringly  said,  their  old  religious  pre 
judices  and  fanatical  notions,  to  raise  a  fresh 
crop  in  the  new  homes  of  the  West. 

w  I  was  the  youngest  of  the  company,  a  boy 
of  nineteen ;  thrown  an  orphan  on  the  world 
before  I  was  five  years  old.  I  had  been  saved 
from  utter  moral  destruction,  only  by  the 
merciful  providence  of  God.  The  oldest,  the 
noblest,  and  the  most  of  a  man  among  us,  was 
Watson  Knowles.  His  physique  was  the  most 
splendid  that  I  ever  beheld.  A  broad,  decid 
ed  brow;  eyes  deep,  gray,  and  lustrous 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          131 


with  a  certain  cheerful  benignity,  a  cheek 
ruddy  with  health,  an  intellect  as  command 
ing  'as  his  stature  was  imposing,  made  him  a 
very  handsome  man.  In  all  things,  Watson 
Knowles  was  tacitly  permitted  to  take  the 
lead.  He  had  become  an  infidel  by  reading 
the  works  of  Tom  Paine,  while  yet  very 
youthful,  and  before  reason  had  matured 
his  judgment,  yet  I  never  met  a  man  who 
was  his  equal  in  debate.  He  was  gifted  with 
singular  powers  of  attraction.  All  his  co- 
workers  loved  him ;  I  perhaps  better  than  the 
rest,  for  he  had  been  more  like  a  father  to  me 
than  a  friend.  He  was  strictly  moral.  I 
never  heard  an  oath  from  his  lips ;  I  never 
saw  him  use  the  mildest  of  stimulants ;  I 
never  heard  him  speak  in  hot  anger :  he  ob 
served  the  outward  forms  of  goodness,  and 
his  disposition  was  peculiarly  mild  and  affec 
tionate.  The  prominent  display  of  such  traits 
gave  him  an  immense  influence  over  those 
who  were  in  anyway  subordinate  to  him,  and 
that  was  every  one  who  came  within  his 
sphere. 


132  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

With  another  man,  Willoughby,  by  name, 
Watson  Knowles  went  out  to  survey  the 
promised  land,  and  wrote  back  such  glowing 
accounts,  that  we  were  all  fain  to  start  by  the 
time  whiter  had  fairly  broken  up.  The  land 
was  rich,  he  said,  and  he  had  chosen  his  place 
forty  miles  from  any  other  settlement,  where 
wood  and  water  abounded.  We  should  have 
the  best  claim  of  any  he  had  yet  seen,  and  be 
fore  many  months  our  colony  would  surpass 
all  the  other  towns  along  the  river. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  March,  we  started, 
and  in  May  we  gathered  together  a  strong 
party.  We  labored  hard  on  six  days,  the 
seventh,  which  we  regarded  as  a  mere  play- 
day,  we  devoted  to  amusements  and  idle  rest. 
Bathing,  swimming,  fishing,  and  even  dancing, 
composed  the  sports  of  those  holy  hours. 
We  built  a  rude  hall,  where  sometimes  Wat 
son  Knowles  and  others  gave  lectures  on 
scientific  and  literary  subjects.  There  were 
plenty  of  good  musicians  in  our  own  little 
company,  and  our  Sabbaths  were  as  merry  as 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          133 


a  worldly  heart  could  wish.  Of  course  we 
gathered  iu  emigrants,  as  we  were  often  oblig 
ed  to  confess,  not  exactly  df  the  right  sort. 
They  were  lazy,  improvident  persons,  with 
villainous,  hang-dog-faces,  and  nervous  hands, 
that  seemed  forever  shuffling  imaginary  cards. 
In  fine,  we  had  not  a  few  gamblers  and  black 
legs  among  us,  who  kept  us  in  continual  fear, 
but  who  enjoyed  our  games  and  freedom  from 
religious  restriction,  mightily.  None  shouted 
as  loudly  as  they,  in  the  sports ;  none  sang 
wilder  songs  or  danced  with  less  weariness, 
but  as  for  work,  the  less  they  did  of  that,  the 
better. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  things  did  not 
go  prosperously  with  us.  It  was  very  strange ; 
we  had  all  we  wanted,  we  were  happy ;  peo 
ple  of  some  sort  were  joining  us  from  time  to 
time,  but  in  fact  the  real  homes  of  our  prophesy 
did  not  rise,  neither  did  the  smoke  curl  up  from 
peaceful  chimneys.  There  were  secret  gin- 
shops,  which  Watson,  with  all  his  vigilance, 
and  lecturing  could  not  suppress.  There  were 


134  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

lapses  from  virtue  of  the  most  aggravating 
character.  The  children  strolled  like  very 
vagabonds,  and  shirked  the  schools  that  were 
provided  for  them;  farms  were  neglected, 
and  altogether  the  prospect  grew  discourag 
ing,  even  to  such  sanguine  natures  as  ours. 
Only  on  the  Sabbath  did  the  people  show  any 
vitality.  Then  they  came  out  in  their  best, 
ready  for  the  lecture,  the  river,  the  dance,  the 
fight,  it  mattered  little  which,  provided  they 
had  a  taste  of  each  during  the  twelve  hours 
sunlight. 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  is,"  Watson  used  to  say, 
after  any  unusual  wickedness  had  taken  place, 
to  me,  his  friend  and  confidant,  "  I  don't  see 
how  it  is  ; "  and  he  spoke  in  a  discouraged  way, 
"I've  tried  my  best  to  make  things  right  here, 
but  they  grow  worse  and  worse  every  week. 
I'm  ashaSned  of  the  whole  concern." 

It  was  proposed  among  us  that  Watson 
should  make  a  trip  to  some  of  the  other  settle 
ments  and  stay  a  while.  There  was  one  to  the 
right  and  one  to  the  left  in  a  most  flourishing 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          135 


condition.  It  was  a  good  idea,  Watson  said, 
and  before  the  week  was  ended,  he  went. 
During  his  absence,  the  confusion  grew  un 
paralleled.  Boats  were  stolen,  a  German  was 
stabbed,  a  woman  beaten  nearly  to  death,  and 
a  hut  set  on  fire.  Depredations  on  fruit  had 
been  committed  by  the  children,  who  acted 
more  like  fiends  incarnate  than  human  beings, 
most  of  them  being  foreigners  of  the  lowest 
grade.  By  the  time  Watson  returned,  the 
heads  of  the  colony  had  become  generally  dis 
satisfied,  and  were  unwilling  to  continue  in  a 
position  so  hemmed  about  with  responsibil 
ities  which  they  found  themselves  unable  to 
meet. 

"  We  were  all  anxious  to  hear  the  result  of 
our  friend's  investigation,  you  may  well  be 
lieve,  and  our  first  query  was,  "  what  have 
you  learned  ?  " 

"Boys,"  said  he,  "I've  visited  two  settle 
ments,  and  become  convinced  of  one  thing; 
we  shall  go  to  the  dogs  if  we  don't  make  some 
show  of  religious  teaching  here.  They  aro 


136  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

getting  along  famously  down  the  river  and 
up,  too :  churches  in  both  places ;  and  the 
people  do  all  their  work  and  play,  between 
the  Sundays,  so  they  told  me.  What  do  you 
think !  they  have  actually  built  a  meeting 
house  down  the  river,  and  it's  full  every  Sab 
bath.  One  of  the  people  there,  told  me  they 
wouldn't  live  in  safety,  if  it  wasn't  for  the 
Sunday  School ;  and  they  have  got  along  so 
well,  that  they  pay  a  tolerable  salary  for  a 
good  preacher.  Boys,  it's  no  use — for  the 
sake  of  the  public,  we  must  get  up  a  Sunday 
School." 

It  seemed  an  odd  proposition  to  all  of  us. 
What  had  come  over  our  leader  ?  A  Sunday 
School !  There  were  murmurs  of  disap 
probation  ;  still  no  one  felt  inclined  to  dis 
pute  with  him,  only  one  and  another  alluded 
to  the  fact  that  we  had  no  Bibles. 

"He  said  he  knew  that,  and  had  purchased 
a  few  at  the  settlement.  "  I  don't  know  as 
they  will  harm  us,"  he  added  with  a  faint 
laugh.  How  well  I  remember  that  day! 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          137 

: 

Then  he  arose ;  said  he  was  going  to  give 
notice  that  there  would  be  a  Sabbath  School 
on  the  next  day,  in  the  dance-house ;  that  he 
thought  little  by  little  we  could  cut  off  the 
gambling  and  boating. 

"No  words  can  explain  the  state  of  OUT 
minds  then ;  mine  was  in  a  perfect  tumult, 
and  I  could  not  think  with  any  coherence. 
My  friend  seemed  changed,  yet  in  what  man 
ner  I  could  not  tell ;  there  was  something  in 
his  eye,  something  in  the  very  tones  of  his 
voice,  that  went  to  my  heart. 

"  The  morrow  dawned,  and  out  of  absolute 
curiosity,  I  believe,  there  were  nearly  a  hun 
dred  people  present,  parents  and  children. 
We  eight  infidels,  were  confounded  and  un 
easy.  I  had  never  been  to  a  Sabbath  School 
in  my  life,  and  knew  not  what  was  expected 
of  me. 

"  They  always  open  with  prayer,"  whisper 
ed  some  one,  "  who  of  us  can  pray  !  " 

"At  least,  I  know  the  Lord's  prayer,"  said 
Watson ;  "  I  learned  it  at  my  mother's  knee," 


138  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


he  added  with  a  strange  and  tender  solemnity. 
"Boys,  I'll  lead,  but  by  next  Sabbath,  one  of 
you  must  learn  something."  So  saying  he 
mounted  the  little  platform,  and  folded  his 
hands.  The  position  was  a  novel  one  to  him, 
as  the  sight  was  to  us.  He  was  about  to  ad 
dress  that  great  God,  of  whom  he  professed, 
no  mortal  might  inquire ;  who  was  too  lofty, 
too  entirely  above  man's  comprehension,  too 
much  absorbed  in  his  mighty  plans  to  notice 
the  creatures  who  crawled  upon  his  footstool. 
His  face,  even  to  his  very  lips  grew  white, 
and  his  voice  trembled  in  a  way  we  had  never 
thought  possible  with  him.  I  don't  think  one 
of  us  smiled.  For  myself,  I  was  awe-struck, 
smitten  with  a  nameless  dread,  and  only 
thinking  how  much  it  ennobled  that  princely- 
looking  man  to  stand  erect  before  the  pres 
ence  of  the  Most  High,  in  the  attitude  of  sup 
plication. 

"  When  he  had  prayed,  he  opened  the 
Bible.  His  hands  shook  as  if  they  would 
drop  the  sacred  volume — I  involuntarily  step- 


THE   DRUNKARD'S   DELIRIUM.  139 


ped  forward.  He  placed  the  book  in  my 
hands,  whispering, 

"  I  believe  I  am  not  well ;  I  will  go  home, 
and  return  soon,  if  I  get  better.  Do  you 
read." 

"  I  began  to  read  with  assurance,  too  igiio- 
rantly  assumed.  Unwittingly,  I  had  opened  at 
John  1  :  3,  and  as  I  read,  the  words  im 
bued  with  a  new  and  wonderful  light,  sank 
into  my  soul.  These,  with  the  impression  of 
my  friend's  last  expression,  together  with  the 
remembrance  of  his  appearance,  affected  me 
so,  that  I  soon  wavered,  and  my  voice  was 
drowned  in  tears.  Another  and  another  es 
sayed  to  read,  and  finally,  one  of  the  eight 
accomplished  the  chapter.  The  people  seem 
ed  affected  at  a  sight  so  unwonted.  Some  of 
them  remembered  the  religious  ceremonies  of 
Father-land ;  others  thought  of  the  tree-em 
bowered  New  England  Churches,  in  the 
sweet  villages  they  had  left ;  still  others  felt 
the  pressure  of  a  mother's  hand  upon  their 
heads,  and  seemed  to  hear  the  holy  prayer 


140  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

sent  heavenward.  At  last,  one  weather- 
beaten  man,  whose  voice  and  countenance 
betrayed  his  intense  emotion,  confessed  the 
waywardness  of  years  and  his  resolve  to  lead 
a  better  life.  Then  came  two  others,  and  that 
meeting  ended  in  a  storm  of  prayer.  God 
appeared  in  the  midst  of  that  strange  congre 
gation.  Men  and  women  sang  for  joy.  I 
left  them,  terribly  shaken  in  all  my  doubts 
and  hurried  to  my  friend.  I  found  him  ill 
and  helpless ;  he  did  not  know  me.  Prone 
upon  his  humble  pallet,  lay  that  grand  figure  ; 
the  hair  tossed  from  the  feverish  brow ;  the 
clenched  hands  uplifted,  as  he  called  on  God 
to  save,  to  be  merciful  to  him.  Day  after 
day,  night  after  night,  we  watched "  him, 
through  that  fearful  illness ;  that  fever  of  the 
brain. 

"At  last,  one  beautiful  morning,  it  was  the 
Sabbath,  he  seemed  rational  again.  Recog 
nizing  me  the  first,  he  cried  piteously,  '  Oh, 
Guilford,  forgive  me,  boy,  I  have  taught 
you  wrongly,'  then  with  uplifted  eyes  and 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          141 

hands  he  said,  '  there  is  a  Jesus  Christ.  Go 
to  him,  plead  for  one  who  has  resisted  him  so 
long.  I  am  dying,  Guilford,  and  I  want  you 
to  tell  them  in  the  Sabbath  School  that  with 
my  last  breath  I  proclaimed  that  there  was  a 
Christ ;  that  though  poor,  miserable  and  sinful 
I  found  myself,  I  depended  on  him  for  salva 
tion.' 

w  Austin,  my  friend,"  and  Guilford's  voice 
fell  low,  wit  was  his  last  breath.  He  smiled, 
and  then  he  slept,  as  I  trust,  in  that  Jesus  he 
had  despised.  I  trust,  I  know  he  had  gone 
for  pardon  to  Him  who  will  in  no  wise  cast 
out  the  penitent. 

"  Oh  !  as  I  looked  at  him  then,  that  noble 
countenance  bereft  of  life,  yet  taking  on  a 
halo  of  the  brightness  which  encircled  him 
now,  my  soul  cried  out  hi  its  anguish  for 
something  to  lean  upon.  "Words  cannot  tell 
how  utterly  alone,  how  entirely  helpless  I 
felt! 

"  Ah !  that  death  was  as  the  seed  of  life. 
Over  that  new-made  grave  we  (alas  !  now  but 


142  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


seven)  renounced  our  infidelity.  It  is  but  a 
few  years  ago.  I  can  seem  to  see  that  mound 
of  freshly-heaped  earth,  the  coffin,  the  bright, 
beautiful  face,  so  placidly  calm  in  death.  I 
see  the  aged  minister  whom  we  had  called  to 
pray  for  us,  feel  the  clasping  of  his  hands,  the 
pressure  of  each  other's  hands  when  the  coffin 
was  lowered. 

"We  called  the  Sabbath  School  after  his 
name.  God  blessed  us.  The  holy  day  be 
came  an  honor  and  a  glory  in  our  midst. 
Quietly  the  population  subsided  into  habits  of 
thrift  and  steadiness.  Farms  smiled,  business 
increased,  churches  sprung  up,  until  when  I 
left  we  could  count  a  colony  of  eight  thousand, 
and  the  white  spires  of  five  churches  pointed  the 
way  to  eternal  life." 

A  slight  sob  might  have  been  heard  at  the 
conclusion  of  this  affecting  story.  Hager  sat 
back  in  the  darkness  of  the  unlighted  room  near 
where  Guilford  was ;  she  had  heard  much  of 
it,  for  she  stole  out  of  the  glare  of  the  kitchen 
where  two  or  three  young  men  were  smoking 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DELIRIUM.          143 


and  talking,  to  escape  by  herself  to  think. 
Austin  had  listened  quietly  at  first,  but  by 
and  by  his  manner  grew  nervous,  he  flungv 
his  half  smoked  cigar  away,  and  folding  his 
arms,  sat  back,  his  tightly  closed  lips  indi 
cating  much  and  deep  feeling.  He  did  not 
resume  his  former  lightness  of  manner  at  the 
close,  he  was  silent  instead,  and  his  face  wore 
an  expression  of  the  utmost  seriousness. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT  THE  COLONEL  THOUGHT  OF  THE 
SABBATH. 

the  morning,  Guilford  felt  it  his  duty 
to  call  upon  the  poor  family  in  whom  he 
had  become  interested  the  night  before. 
Sarah  met  him  on  the  threshold. 

"  How  is  your  father  ?  "  asked  Guilford. 

"  Better,  sir,  but  very  weak.  O!  I  am 
thankful  you  came — that  you  said  just  what 
you  did.  It  has  saved  him,  I  hope.  He  had 
three  paroxysms  during  the  night — terrible 
ones,  but  he  held  on  to  the  Bible,  and  seemed 
to  think  that  would  protect  him.  I  trust  you 
do  not  think  we  have  such  scenes  often,"  she 
added,  tears  filling  her  eyes;  "it  is  the  first 
tune  it  has  served  him  this  way.  Will  you  go 
in,  sir?  he  has  repeatedly  asked  for  you." 


14* 


THE  COLONEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.  -145 

Guilford  assented,  and  they  entered  the 
room.  The  scattered  furniture,  which  in  his 
raving,  the  maniac  had  thrown  about,  was 
now  restored  to  order,  and  on  a  deep  lounge, 
that  had  felt  the  violence  of  his  ravings,  the 
drunkard  lay,  pale,  wearied  out,  his  trembling 
hands  still  folded  over  the  volume  that  had 
not  been  out  of  his  grasp. 

"  O  !  sir,"  he  said,  not  trying  to  check  tho 
tears  that  began  to  stream  down  his  pallid 
cheeks,  "  I  have  been  in  hell." 

"  That  is  a  sad  experience,"  said  Guilford, 
gravely,  taking  a  seat  by  his  bedside. 

w  Sad  !  "  exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  look  of 
horror,  "yes,  and  you  have  used  the  right 
word  experience,  not  imagination.  No  one 
need  tell  me  that  the  sights  I  saw,  and  the 
sounds  I  heard,  were  the  distortions  of  a  per 
verted  fancy.  I  did  hear ;  I  did  see.  I  have 
had  drunkards  and  drunkard-makers  round 
me,  yelling,  dancing  and  singing  infernal 
music.  It  rings  in  my  ears  now.  O  !  how 
they  seemed  to  gloat  over  me  !  O  !  how  they 


146  THE  MILL  AGENT. 


clutched  at  me  !  and  one  of  the  fiercest,  whis 
pered  that  they  had  come  before  the  time. 
O  !  sir,  you  are  a  Christian ;  my  daughter,  that 
blessed  child,  tells  me  so ;  do  you  see  any 
thing  in  me  worth  saving  ?  Can  I  be  saved 
from  this  appetite  ?  " 

He  lifted  himself,  and  with  ghastly  eyes 
fastened  upon  Guilford's  face,  awaited  an 
answer. 

"Yea,  you  can  be  saved :  because  first,  there 
is  power  in  Christ  to  save  you,  and  secondly 
there  is  power  in  you  to  seek  salvation,  and 
to  keep  the  wondrous  gift,  forever,  with  the 
help  of  Christ.  This  Guilford  enunciated 
slowly,  his  glance  never  once  moved  from  the 
yearning  look  of  the  drunkard. 

"  There  is  something  in  your  face,  that  com 
forts  me,"  said  the  troubled  sinner,  falling 
back  again;  "something  that  goes  to  my 
heart,  and  gives  a  warmth  that  I  lost  ages 
ago.  O !  sir,  you  do  not  know  me — I  have 
transgressed  against  light  and  mercy  so 
long  I " 


THE  COLONEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    147 


"  And  Christ  has  had  patience  with  you  for 
so  long,  I  should  think  it  would  lead  you  to 
Him  now.  What  a  mercy  you  did  not  die  in 
that  dreadful  delirium !  I  think  you  could 
not  survive  another." 

"Do  you,  do  you,  indeed?"  asked  the  man 
earnestly,  sweeping  back  the  silvery  locks 
that  fell  over  his  forehead ;  "  oh !  how  shall  I 
save  myself !  That  fearful  appetite  !  " 

"  Can  you  keep  a  promise  ?  "  queried  Guil- 
ford.  "Pardon  me  for  putting  the  question 
so  bluntly ;  I  know  how  the  demon  appetite 
paralyses  all  good — every  effort  of  the  strong 
est  will." 

M  Yes,  yes,  that's  it,"  said  the  man,  in  a 
hopeless  voice ;  "but  I  think,  I  trust  there  is 
man  enough  of  me  left  to  keep  a  promise. 
I  don't  know,  though ;  how  often  have  I  at 
tempted  it  ?  "  a  tremulous  sigh  closed  the  sen 
tence. 

"  Do  you  keep  strong  drink  of  any  kind  in 
the  house  ?  " 

Sarah  blushed  crimson,  and  turned  away. 


148  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


Poor  child  !  to  hold  him  to  her  home,  she  had 
purchased  the  fiery  liquor,  which  he  was  in  the 
habit" of  taking  daily. 

"  I  always  keep  it,"  said  the  man,  in  a  low 
voice. 

w  Give  it  up,  sir,  or  there's  no  help  for  you. 
It  would  be  useless  for  you  to  pray,  to  call  on 
Christ  for  mercy,  while  you  sheltered  satan  in 
your  very  heart.  Throw  the  vile  stuff  far 
from  you.  Kesolve,  in  the  strength  of  God, 
that  from  this  hour  nothing  of  the  kind  shall 
pass  your  lips.  Surround  yourself  with  triple 
guards  ;  be  even  a  prisoner  in  your  own  house, 
before  you  encourage  the  demands  of  that 
fearful  appetite.  Why,  sir,  in  coming  here 
this  morning,  I  thought  what  a  beautiful  place 
might  this  be !  Here  is  land  before  your 
door,  quite  neglected.  Here  is  a  field  on  one 
side  of  your  house,  an  orchard  on  the  other. 
"With  proper  care  you  might  be  a  king  over 
that  soil,  a  bounteous  king,  giving  but  to  be 
blest ;  enriching  but  to  have  wealth  ten  fold 
returned  to  you.  Think  how  the  flowers 


THE  COLOXEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    149 

would  smile  in  your  face,  giving  you  mute 
blessings  for  their  existence  ?  Beautiful  flow 
ers  !  only  the  clear  water  from  heaven  is  their 
drink.  O  !  my  dear  sir,  I  plead  with  you  as 
I  would  with  my  own  father — come  out  from 
the  region  of  darkness  into  the  land  of  light. 
You  are  in  prison,  shut  in  the  iron  walls  of 
sin.  Without  is  the  sunshine  of  God's  peace, 
the  fruits  of  his  blessings  ;  the  arch  of  heaven, 
where  you  and  I  may  meet  hereafter — bloom 
and  beauty,  and  fragrance  on  all  sides.  Come 
out ;  God  did  not  give  you  life  that  it  should 
see  no  Paradise  in  this  world,  poor  as  it  is. 
Come,  my  dear  sir,  stand  up  and  say,  '  I,  too, 
am  a  man — a  conqueror.' " 

"I  will,  God  helping  me,"  said  the  drunk 
ard,  solemnly.  "  O  !  sir,  I  have  seen  it  all,  as 
you  talked ;  my  jail,  this  corrupt  heart ;  my 
jailer,  the  monster  who  putteth  the  bottle  to 
his  neighbor's  lips.  His  business  is  to  de 
stroy,  to  cut  off  hope  ;  to  deform  God's  handi 
work,  to  change  the  human  heart  to  a  devil ; 
to  desolate  homes ;  to  curse  God  to  his  face  ; 


150  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

to  make  earth  like  hell ;  to  starve  babes  ;  to 
fill  church-yards  ;  to  breed  riots  ;  to  feed  jeal 
ousy;  to  corrupt  every  honest  impulse,  to 
blight  every  good  resolve  ;  to  teach  mankind 
to  be  thieves  and  robbers,  adulterers  and  mur 
derers  ;  and  to  glut  the  jails  and  prisons. 
Does  Tie  dare  hope  for  mercy  ?  " 

The  man  had  risen  again ;  every  line  in  his 
face  quivered ;  his  eyes  flashed ;  his  lips  trem 
bled;  it  was  as  the  tempted  accusing  the 
tempter. 

"  Father,  dear  father — you  must  not  get  ex 
cited  again." 

"No,  daughter — no,  darling;  oh!  if  I  only 
thought  I  should  ever  be  a  father  to  you  once 
more ;  but,  Sarah — give  me  your  hand,  my 
child  ;  I  promise  you,  I  will  try." 

"  In  the  strength  of  God,"  whispered  Guil- 
ford. 

"Yes.  In  the  strength  of  God,"  repeated 
the  old  man ;  "pray  for  me,  pray  for  me,  sir. 
O  !  I  have  reason  to  bless  you  for  coming  here 
to  me." 


THE  COLONEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    151 

And  Guilford  did  pray ;  with  all  the  fervor 
of  his  soul,  he  sent  his  petition  up  to  God, 
who  heareth. 

"  Let  ine  tell  you,  sir,"  said  the  old  man, 
clinging  to  his  hand,  before  he  went :  w  you 
are  the  only  living  being  I  ever  promised. 
To  myself,  I  have  done  so  many  a  time ;  oh  ! 
sir,  I  will  try,  indeed  I  will ;  I  will  ask  God 
to  help  me.  You  don't  know  how  I  long  to 
be  a  better  man." 

Guilford  listened  with  pleasure ;  spoke 
words  of  Christian  sympathy,  and  set  out  on 
his  way  to  the  mill,  after  promising  to  send 
some  one  to  remain  with  the  sick  man — for 
sick  he  really  was,  with  the  reaction  of  his 
system,  after  so  many,  and  fierce  struggles. 

Colonel  Leffingwell  was  riding  up  to  the 
mills,  as  Guilford  reached  the  door  of  his 
office. 

"  Good  morning,"  sir,"  said  the  bluff  man, 
heartily. 

"Good  morning,"  responded  Guilford, 
modestly  touching  his  hat. 


152  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


«  Splendid  day,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  God  has  given  us  a  glorious  day,  sir." 

The  Colonel  cleared  his  throat  ostentatious 
ly,  before  he  said,  "  and  yesterday  was  de 
lightful — for — for  worshipping  God,  in  the 
great  temples  He  has  made,"  and  the  Colonel 
waved  his  gloved  hand  and  his  riding  whip 
over  toward  the  groves  beyond  them. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Guilford,"  all  places  are 
consecrated  where  we  worship  the  Deity." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  hardly  agree  with 
us,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  another  loud 
ahem ;  w  we  spent  our  day  in  those  ple'asant 
aisles.  It  carries  the  thoughts  up,  sir,  to  be 
surrounded  by  nature's  beauties  ;  for  my  part, 
give  me  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  woods. 
Did  you  attend  church,  sir?" 

"  I  did,"  responded  Guilford ;  w  in  the  next 
village." 

"  I  had  half  a  mind  to  send  for  you,  to  join 
us,"  said  the  Colonel,  "but,  perhaps,  it  would 
not  have  accorded  with  your  notions." 

"  Frankly,  it  would  not,"  returned  Guilford 
smiling. 


THE  COLOXEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    153 


"You  prefer  to  swelter  in  a  meeting-i 
house ;  eh?" 

"  I  prefer  to  go  up  to  the  sanctuary,"  said 
Guilforcl,  "where  the  soul  is  divested  of  all 
distracting  outward  surroundings,  and  where 
His  people  pray,  and  sing  to  His  praise.  I 
love  it,  sir ;  my  heart  is  bound  up  in  the  wel 
fare  of  Christ's  Zion." 

"  O  !  I  perceive  you  are  rather  on  the  fanat 
ical  order,"  said  the  Colonel,  lightly.  "  Now 
/  see  Go<i  in  everything,"  he  added,  elevating 
his  handsome  chin,"  and  I  do  not  feel  that  I 
am  in  the  wrong  for  wishing  to  choose  my 
way  of  worshipping  God." 

"If  we  worship  Him  in  spirit,  and  in  truth, 
Colonel  Leffingwell,  we  need  not  fear  but  we 
shall  be  accepted,"  said  Guilford,  quietly.  "I 
felt,  however,  as  if  I  saw,  some  yesterday,  to 
wards  the  close  of  the  day,  who  had  been 
more  intent  upon  their  own  pleasure  than  any 
Christian  service.  I  allude  to  those  who 
went  fishing,  and  some  others  who  appeared 
to  be  intoxicated." 


154  THE   MTT.T.   AGENT ) 


The  cheek  of  the  Colonel  flushed. 

w  That  was  wrong,  of  course ;  there  will  be 
some  unruly  members  in  a  community  like 
this;  it  was  very  wrong — very  disgraceful. 
You  must  help  us  to  put  matters  right,  Mr. 
Coit." 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  Guilford  replied  earnestly, 
his  eye  brightening ;  "  but,  sir,  is  there  really 
any  necessity  for  keeping  a  bar-room  in  this 
small  village  ?  I  am  very  sorry  to  be  under 
the  obligation  of  remaining  where  death  and 
destruction  are  liberally  dealt  out.  I  do  be 
lieve,  Colonel,  that  the  landlord  of  our 
tavern  could  be  induced  to  give  it  up ;  he 
seems  a  reasonable  kind  of  man." 

The  Colonel's  cheek  had  flushed  with  a 
deeper,  broader  crimson. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  don't  know,"  he  said  hur 
riedly  ;  K  the  dickens  take  his  religion,"  he 
muttered  to  himself. 

"It  is  doing  great  harm,  sir,  depend  upon 
it,"  said  Guilford,  gravely ;  feeling  deeply  the 
importance  of  the  matter,  and  forgetting  for  a 


THE  COLONEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    155 

moment,  that  the  Colonel  was  by  far  the  larg 
est  sharer  in  the  profits  of  the  concern ;  "we 
are,  and  must  be,  in  this  world,  the  keepers 
of  our  brothers,  guarding  the  weak  and  guid 
ing  the  wayward." 

:t  Yes — yes,"  muttered  the  Colonel  vaguely, 
then  starting,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  something, 
he  said, 

"  O  1  by  the  way — we  are  to  have  a  little 
company  up  at  Rose-Hedge  on  Tuesday  night. 
There  will  be  no  dancing,  so  I  suppose  your 
peculiar  views,"  he  emphasied  these  two 
words,  "will  hardly  prevent  you  from  joining 
us." 

"I  shall  be  very  happy  to  come,  sir,"  said 
Guilford,  and  the  two  went  on  their  way. 

Meantime  Sarah  Church  had  entered  the 
mills,  and  quietly  taken  her  place  by  the  side 
of  little  Hager.  Save  the  pallor  of  her  cheeks, 
there  was  no  token  given  that  she  had  suffer 
ed.  Her  heart  was  full  of  gratitude  to  God, 
that  He  had  sent  her  timely  aid,  in  her  great 
need.  She  was  not  wont  to  pray,  but  on  that 


156  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

sad  Sabbath,  she  had  fallen  on  her  knees  be 
fore  God,  crying  out  for  help,  only  the  mo 
ment  before  she  met  Guilford  Coit.  It  seem 
ed  like  a  wondrous  miracle-answer.  The 
good  old  Goldby  was.  now  at  home  with  her 
father,  and  her  heart  felt  lighter  and  happier 
than  it  had  for  years.  She  was  like  one  long 
lost  in  a  cave,  who  sees  afar  off,  a  ray  of 
light,  that  speaks  of  liberty  and  life. 

Hager's  rose-bud  face  was  unusually 
thoughtful,  and  the  dimples  seldomer  seen. 
Intent  upon  her  work  the  child  seemed,  and 
there  was  a  shade  of  thought  in  the  hitherto 
laughing  blue  eyes.  All  at  once,  after  a  long 
silence,  she  spoke  out,  "What  a  nice  place 
our  great  hall  would  be  ?  " 

Sarah  paused,  and  looked  at  her. 

"What  were  you  saying,  Hager?"  she 
asked. 

«  O  !  "  the  child  blushed,  «  why  I  was  think 
ing — and  I  suppose  I  thought  out  loud,"  she 
replied. 

"You  must  have  been  very  much  in  ear 
nest,"  responded  Sarah. 


THE  COLONEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    157 

"  So  you  would  be,  if  you  could  ,hear  Mr. 
Coit  talk,"  said  Hager  earnestly. 

"  Yes,  indeed — yes,  indeed,"  Sarah  answer 
ed,  in  a  lower  voice ;  "  I  believe  in  his  re 
ligion." 

M  1  guess  you  would,  if  you  could  see  him 
all  the  time,"  said  Hager ;  she  looked  up  se 
riously — awe  and  wonder  in  her  gentle  eyes, 
as  she  added,  "  I  don't  believe  he  ever  does 
anything  wrong,  and  oh  !  he's  so  patient !  " 

"  Patient,  with  whom?  " 

"Why,  sometimes  the  men  at  the  house 
sneer  and  laugh  at  him,  and  ask  him  hard 
questions,  and  say  things  that  would  make  me 
angry ;  but  he  is  just  as  quiet  and  pleasant ; 
and  as  I  said,  takes  pains  to  answer  and  put 
them  right,  in  such  a  patient  way  !  It  al 
most  makes  me  cry,"  and  the  tears  brimmed 
up  to  her  eyes. 

Just  then,  a  merry  thoughtless  girl  was 
passing. 

"  Who  has  seen  saint  Coit,  this  morning?  " 
she  cried,  lightly. 


158  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

"You  see  how  they  make  sport  of  him," 
murmured  Hager,  grievingly. 

"It  doesn't  hurt  him  any  dear,"  was 
Sarah's  reply,  while  she  heard  the  loud  laugh 
going  the  rounds,  as  one  girl  after  another 
took  up  the  jest;  "but  tell  me  what  you 
meant  about  the  hall  ?  " 

"  Only — I  heard  him  talking  about  a  Sab 
bath-school  ;  and  I  thought  if  father  said  yes, 
you  know,  we  might  manage  to  pick  up  a  few 
scholars,  who  were  willing  to  go.  Mr.  Han- 
fort  is  a  religious  man;  he  belongs  to  the 
church,  and  always  goes  once  on  Sunday,  to 
the  old  village ;  maybe  he  would  help,  and 
Mr.  Coit  would  be  so  glad  !  because,  you  see, 
it  might  lead  the  way  for  meetings  here,  and  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  he  could  preach  as  well 
as  anybody." 

"  Why,  dear,  you're  laying  plans  for  turn 
ing  us  all  topsy  turvy — ,"  said  Sarah,  smil 
ing;  "but,  nevertheless,  I  suppose  your  idea 
is  to  have  Sunday-school  at  the  tavern.  I'm 
afraid  it'll  be  a  long  time  before  that  happens. 


THE  COLONEL  AND  THE  SABBATH.    159 


Mr.  Hanfort  is  a  church  member,  I  know,  but 
for  all  that  his  children  go  boating  on  the  Sab 
bath  ;  and  they  are  not  going  to  give  up  their 
sport  in  a  hurry." 

The  laugh  had  not  yet  died  out :  still  Guil- 
ford  was  the  subject  of  sneering  remark. 

"He's  an  odd  copy  of  the  canticles,"  cried 
one  black-eyed  girl,  whose  hair  was  showily 
dressed  off  with  red  ribbons.  "  Above  all 
things,  I  do  hate  your  parading  Christians  al 
ways  making  a  fuss  about  their  sentiments 
and  attempting  to  teach  their  betters.  I'll 
let  him  see  he  can't  talk  to  me  in  a  hurry." 

"  O  !  Sarah,"  cried  Hager  in  a  low  voice, 
"  there  he  is  right  behind  her,  and  he  must 
have  heard  !  O  !  it's  too  bad,"  and  the  crim 
son  of  mortification  mounted  to  her  cheek. 
Just  then,  the  girl  heard  his  voice.  Bold  as 
she  was,  her  eyes  fell,  and  her  face  grew  scar 
let.  In  another  moment  he  stood  quietly  be 
side  her. 

"  Have  you  hurt  your  hand  ? "  he  asked, 
seeing  that  her  left  hand  was  bound  up. 


160  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"I  lamed  it,  yesterday,"  was  the  short 
reply. 

"Be  careful  how  you  use  it  to-day,  then," 
he  said,  and  passed  on.  The  girl  with  the 
red  ribbons,  bit  her  lips,  then  curled  them, 
then  tossed  her  head,  but  how  was  it?  The 
real  malice  she  had  felt  was  all  gone,  and  in 
its  stead  had  come  shame  of  self.  She  knew 
he  had  heard  her  unkind  remark :  had  heard 
the  light  speeches  on  all  sides,  and  yet  how 
calm,  unmoved  and  gentle  he  looked,  still 
taking  no  notice. 

Guilford  paused  a  moment  by  Sarah 
Church,  and  smiled  toward  Hager .  He  had  seen 
for  some  time,  that  in  her  young  heart  the 
truth  Avas  working.  . He  knew  it  by  a  thousand 
little  signs  ;  he  trusted  much  in  her  influence 
with  her  father,  for  his  plans  were  dimly  form 
ing.  He  saw  a  little  cloud  in  the  heavens. 
What  did  it  matter  that  it  was  but  a  spark  on 
the  horizon?  God  was  able  to  enlarge  it. 

"  Prayer,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  walking 
on,  "  fervent,  unceasing  prayer,  will  do  the 
work." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    FASHIONABLE    PARTY. 

/COLONEL  LEFFINGWELL'S  house 
V_l/  was  always  full  of  company.  His  wife 
was  an  invalid,  and  fancied  she  required  the 
stimulus  of  perpetual  excitement.  She  was 
a  fair,  small  woman,  always  resting  in  easy 
chairs,  luxuriously  attired,  or  lying  on  lounges 
attended  by  a  delicate  little  girl  who  was  her 
own  especial  maid. 

Mrs.  Leffingwell  was  either  extremely  lan 
guid,  or  excessively  irritable.  Denied  the 
pleasures  to  which  she  had  always  been  accus 
tom^  tUl  within  a  few  years,  she  had  no 
resources  save  to  revel  in  the  remembrance  of 
the  past,  and  to  dwell  with  pertinacious 
small  talk  upon  the  glories  she  had  seen,  the 
marvels  she  had  met  with.  Her  mind  had 
been  systematically  narrowed  down  by  the 


162  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

routine  of  fashionable  life.  From  the  nur 
sery  she  had  emerged  a  wonder  of  conven 
tionality  ;  to  the  first  day  of  her  long  and 
tedious  illness,  she  had  been  the  leader  of  a 
clique,  the  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mould  of 
form. 

Maud  Mary,  her  only  daughter,  had  escaped 
much  of  the  drilling  that  had  perfected  her 
mother.  Consequently  she  was  truer  to  na 
ture,  and  having  been  always  the  companion 
of  her  father  and  brother,  her  mind  had  taken 
in  an  out-door  strength,  that  gave  it  a  certain 
vigor,  denied  to  hot-house  plants. 

To  her  mother,  she  seemed  immature  and 
unlady-like. 

"  I  have  been  sick  ever  since  she  was  nine 
years  old,"  she  would  say  apologetically; 
w  and  consequently  have  been  able  to  devote 
very  little  time  to  the  formation  of  her  habits. 
She 's  perfectly  rude :  quite  a  barbarian. 
Nelly,  child,  hand  me  my  vinegarette,"  and 
easy  overcome  by  the  perverse  picture  hci 
child  presented,  as  drawn  by  herself,  she 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  163 

would  snuff  at  the  bottle  till  its  pungency 
drew  tears  that  were  carefully  wiped  away 
with  the  finest  and  flossiest  of  handkerchiefs. 
There  never  was  a  more  fashionable  invalid 
than  Mrs.  Lydia  Leflmgwell.  As  she  patheti 
cally  observed  to  a  friend,  it  took  all  her 
time  to  invent  new  styles ;  "  where  one  can 
possibly  do  nothing,"  she  added,  "you  know 
it  is  such  a  comfort  to  keep  one's  self  well 
dressed." 

Merric  inherited  his  mother's  constitution, 
(the  family  on  her  side  was  consumptive)  but 
he  was  a  bright,  merry,  happy  creature ;  and 
when  she  was  confined  to  her  sick  chamber, 
during  the  severer  trials  of  her  disease,  he 
was  her  sunshine.  She  idolized  him ;  indeed, 
he  took  the  place  of  God  in  her  poor  heart. 

As  usual,  the  house  was  bright  with  music, 
flowers  and  laughter.  Several  city  friends 
had  come  to  revel  in  the  beautiful  conserva 
tories  which  were  the  Colonel's  special  pride, 
and  to  eat  the  choice  fruits  which  were  culti 
vated  by  Harvey,  one  of  the  most  skilful  of 
English  gardeners. 


164  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


w  We  must  have  plenty  of  flowers  to-night," 
said  Mary,  as  she  entered  the  wide  hall,  arm 
and  arm  with  a  friend. 

"  O  !  yes,  in  honor  of  your  new,  and  I  should 
judge,  immaculate  agent,"  replied  the  other 
laughing.  w  Did  you  know  his  mighty  high 
ness  undertook  to  tell  your  father,  that  he  and 
all  of  us  did  unpardonably  wrong  in  going  in 
the  woods  last  Sunday  to  eat  sandwiches  and 
hear  the  birds  sing,  instead  of  tramping  to  the 
meeting-house,  seven  or  eight  miles  off?  " 

"No,"  replied  Mary;  "but  I  consider  it 
very  impertinent  if  he  did  so." 

"  Mary  !"  called  her  mother  from  an  adjoin 
ing  room,  "I  believe  my  troubles  will  kill  me 
yet,"  she  cried  fretfully,  as  the  young  girl  en 
tered.  "  See,  the  careless  things  have  scorch 
ed  one  of  my  best  handkerchiefs,  and  the  lace 
and  ribbons  of  my  new  cap,  are  not  fit  to  be 
seen,  the  way  it  was  put  in  the  box !  It's 
enough  to  make  one  cry  with  vexation,"  she 
added.  "  And  to  see  you  with  such  vulgar 
red  cheeks  ;  oh !  Mary,  Mary  !  you  will  never 
make  a  lady — I  despair !  " 


THE    FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  165 


"  What  shall  I  do  for  you,  mother  ?  "  asked 
Mary,  quietly. 

"Do  for  me — I  don't  know  as  anything  can  be 
done  to  suit  me.  Straighten  out  those  ribbons 
if  the  thing  is  possible.  I'm  so  worried  and 
fretted,  that  I  don't  believe  I  shall  be  able  to 
be  seen  to-night,  and  I  so  doated  on  wearing 
that  lilac  silk." 

"Trifles  to  the  well,  are  burdens  to  the 
sick,"  thought  Mary,  stifling  an  impatient 
sigh,  but  she  could  not  help  mentally  repeat 
ing,  "  and  what  trifles  I " 

"  The  Colonel  says  he  has  invited  that  low 
fellow,  the  new  agent,"  worried  Mrs.  Leffing- 
well,  sinking  down  on  the  couch-pillows,  and 
adjusting  the  fine  ruffles  on  her  sleeves. 

"Low — oh!  no,  mamma;  the  very  farthest 
from  that — he  is  a  gentleman,  if  deport 
ment  and  real  courtesy  make  one,"  replied 
Mary. 

"  But  all  these  religious  folks  who  believe 
in  noisy  meetings,  and  going  all  lengths  in 
what  they  call  serving  Go<J,  are  generally 


166  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

very  common  people  indeed,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Leffmgwell,  annoyed  that  her  daughter  gain 
said  her.  "  He  may  put  on  the  airs  of  a  gen 
tleman,  but  depend  upon  it,  if  I  feel  equal  to 
the  exertion,  I  shall  soon  make  him  appear 
very  ignorant  and  silly.  I  like  to  expose  all 
such  pretence,  and  I  despise  ranters.  If  peo 
ple  have  religion,  they  should  never  force  its 
notice  obtrusively  on  other  people ;  I  hate 
that.  Now,  I  consider  Mr.  Hanfort  a  reason 
able  Christian ;  he  don't  carry  his  views  too 
far.  Said  he  to  me,  the  other  night,  when  I 
felt  equal  to  a  game  of  whist,  '  I'm  not  a  fa 
natic,  madam ;  I  believe  in  reasonable  enjoy 
ment.  It  is  excess  in  these  things  that  makes 
them  sinful.'  Now,  such  a  man  as  that,  I  can 
have  patience  with ;  but  your  religious  exclu- 
sives — oh  !  dear !  "  and  her  hand  was  out 
stretched  for  the  smelling  bottle. 

"Mr.  Hanfort's  children  do  not  show  an 
excess  of  religious  training,"  said  Mary, 
rather  to  herself. 

"  O  !  well,  he  is  unfortunate,  to  be  sure,  in 


THE  FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  167 


having  a  dissipated  son  and  three  wild  daugh 
ters  ;  but  there  is  many  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  who  has  the  same  trial.  I  don't  think 
the  poor  man  is  to  blame,  because  his  children 
go  wrong.  I'm  sure  it's  only  natural  good 
ness,  that  has  kept  you  and  Merric ;  for  what 
have  I  been  able  to  do  towards  your  bring 
ing  up." 

Mary  smiled,  involuntarily,  as  she  glanced 
towards  the  little  lump  of  silk  and  muslin, 
but  her  heart  instantly  rebuked  her,  and  bend 
ing  down  she  kissed  her  mother's  pale  brow, 
feeling  that  perhaps  she  had  not  long  to  live, 
and  that  best  of  all  earthly  names  was  very 
sweet  to  her. 

The  tune  wore  on,  and  by  seven  the  in 
valid  was  dressed  for  the  evening,  and  wheel 
ed  to  a  conspicuous  place  near  the  great  chan 
delier.  The  grand  piano  was  opened  to  its 
utmost  extent,  lights  flashed  from  room  to 
room,  card-tables  were  spread  with  their  soft 
green  baize  covers,  and  very  soon  the  com 
pany  began  to  come.  Of  course  the  elite  of 


168  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


Clifton  Locks  were  there,  and  Guilford  had  an 
opportunity  to  see  society  in  its  best  phase. 
He  did  not  come  till  most  of  the  guests  had 
arrived,  and  his  appearance  caused  quite  a 
buzz,  subdued  though  it  was.  His  light  had 
not  been  hid  under  a  bushel  consequently  as 
it  was  neither  feeble  nor  dim,  it  had  been  seen 
far  and  near,  and  people  took  the  liberty  ot 
saying  what  they  pleased  about  it.  Some  had 
heard  that  he  was  a  coarse,  eccentric  religion 
ist,  who  cared  not  in  what  he  offended ;  others 
that  he  was  plausible,  handsome  and  eloquent, 
but  a  man  to  be  feared,  for  so  many  such  were 
hypocrites  !  All  however  appeared  pleased 
with  his  gentlemanly  exterior  as  he  entered 
the  room  arm  in  arm  with  Austin  Grande. 
Introductions  took  place,  and  when  these  for 
malities  were  over,  Guilford  Coit  had  leisure 
to  look  about  him,  and  study  human  nature. 

Mary  Leffingwell  appeared  to  have  entrench 
ed  herself  behind  a  haughty  reserve,  but  Mer- 
ric,  the  boy  with  those  tender  and  beautiful 
eyes  that  seemed  made  for  heaven,  chatted  in 


THE  FASHIONABLE  PARTY.    Page  181. 


THE    FASHIONABLE    PARTY.  169 


his  frank,  pleasant  way  with  the  new  agent ; 
talked  about  mill-improvements,  the  country, 
the  society,  and  gave  him  a  sketchy  history 
of  some  of  the  notabilities  present.  In  the 
midst  of  this,  Guilford  was  summoned  to  the 
side  of  the  lady  of  the  house.  She  received 
him  with  languid  affability,  and  motioned  him 
to  a  seat  next  to  her. 

"  You  see  I  am  a  poor  invalid,"  she  said, 
smiling,  "  but  I  contrive  to  make  the  world 
contribute  to  my  enjoyment." 

Guilford  bowed  politely,  his  eyes  scanned 
the  white  fleshless  arms,  the  thin  blue  neck, 
all  flashing  with  jewels,  all  adorned  with  lace, 
and  he  could  say  nothing. 

"How  do  you  like  our  town,  Mr.  Coit?" 
asked  Mrs.  Leffingwell. 

"  So  far  as  I  have  seen  and  enjoyed  its 
natural  beauties,  I  think  it  a  superior  place, 
madam,"  he  replied. 

"Yes,  we  have  a  few  very  aristocratic  per 
sons  here,  very  much  refined,  though  not  so 
fashionable  of  course,  as  the  circles  one  meets 


170  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


in  the  city,  but  still  they  are  pleasant,  sociable 
people." 

She  was  drifting  beyond  his  tide ;  position 
was  nothing  to  him,  salvation  everything. 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  Europe?"  she 
asked,  languidly. 

"I  have  enjoyed  that  pleasure,"  was  his  re- 

piy- 

"  You  have  ! "  the  lady  opened  her  eyes  to 
their  widest  extent,  and  lifted  herself  a  little 
from  the  luxurious  arm-chair.  She  was  not 
prepared  for  this  answer.  Guilford  smiled  as 
he  thought,  "  she  will  fall  again  presently." 

"Pray  when  did  you  go ? "  she  asked. 

"  Many  years  past,  madam ;  I  went  as  a 
sailor  before  the  mast." 

"O!"  she  sank  back  again,  weary,  but 
placid,  and  evidently  disinclined  for  further 
talk.  Then  he  would  have  risen,  but  she  ex 
claimed,  "  don't  go,  sir,  will  you  not  join  me 
in  a  game  of  whist?  Merric,  my  love,  draw 
the  table  up  and  take  out  the  cards." 

Guilford  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung ; 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  171 


his  brow  reddened,  but  he  said  resolutely  and 
quietly, 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,  I  do  not  play." 

"  O  !  then  you  don't  know  the  game,"  she 
said,  looking  curiously  towards  him,  "you 
don't  know  the  game,"  she  repeated  sharply. 

"Yes,  madam,  I  do  know  the  game ;  I  am 
— I  am  sorry  to  say,  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  cards." 

By  this  time  a  little  circle  had  gathered, 
apparently  by  accident,  but  really  to  witness, 
as  they  thought,  his  discomfiture. 

"  What,  do  you  mean  me  to  infer  that  it  is 
wicked  to  play  an  innocent  game  of  cards  ?  " 
queried  Mrs.  Leffingwell,  the  color  tinging 
her  sallow  cheeks. 

"  I  cannot  call  that  innocent  which  is  a  snare 
to  the  soul ;  which  has  destroyed  its  tens  and 
hundreds  of  thousands,"  he  replied  still  with 
that  shuddering  look.  "  For  me  to  play  would 
be  only  short  of  absolute  madness,  for  I  have 
seen  those  cards  reddened  with  blood.  I  have 
seen  the  gamester  throw  one  despairing  glance 


172  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

to  heaven,  and  then  pull  the  pistol-trigger  at 
his  brains." 

"  O  !  you  shouldn't  tell  such  horrible  stories," 
said  Mrs.  Leffingwell. 

"I  wished  you  to  know  in  what  light  I 
viewed  card-playing,"  replied  the  young  man. 
"  In  my.  humble  judgment,  no  Christian  will 
touch  cards  for  any  purpose  of  amusement." 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  even  touch  them,"  said 
Merric,  who  had  unconsciously  dropped  the 
pack  he  held,  on  the  table-cover. 

"  O,  yes  I  would,  for  one  purpose,"  replied 
Guilford,  smiling. 

"  And  pray  what  would  that  be  ?  " 

"  To  put  them  in  the  fire,"  replied  the  young 
man. 

"Mr.  Hanfort,"  said  Mrs.  Leffingwell  ap- 
pealingly,  "  here's  a  young  man  who  says  a 
Christian  ought  not  to  touch  a  card ;  what  do 
you  think  of  that !  " 

"  With  one  exception,  I  believe  I  stated," 
said  Guilford,  as  the  portly  gentleman  drew 
nearer  the  invalid's  chair. 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  173 

"  O  !  that  wasn't  polite,"  said  Mrs.  Leffing- 
well,  with  the  utmost  serenity,  "and  I  will 
not  repeat  it." 

"Very  well,  madam,"  said  Guilford,  feeling 
the  retort,  yet  not  betraying  that  he  did  so. 
Mr.  Hanfort  now  approached.  His  man 
ner  betrayed  uneasiness,  for  he  was  a  time- 
server  and  he  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Every  one  has  a  right  to  his  opinion,"  at 
last  he  said,  with  a  courteous  bow.  "Mr. 
Coit  might  possibly  think  that  no  Christian 
should  eat  meat,  and  I  might  differ  from  him 
as  I  most  assuredly  do  on  this  question.  I 
never  thought  it  a  sin  to  pass  a  quiet  hour  at 
cards,  especially,"  and  he  bowed  on  the  other 
side,  "  if  invited  to  play  by  a  lady." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  approbation  ; 
Guilford  felt  his  unpopularity,  but  it  did 
not  trouble  him ;  he  was  still  valiant  for  the 
right. 

"Well,  I  like  a  man  to  show  his  colors, 
any  way,"  said  Merric  bluntly. 

"  My  son  ! "  exclaimed  his  mother  reprov 
ingly. 


174  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

"  I  am  on  Merric's  side,"  said  Mary  Leffing- 
well  to  her  friend  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  can't  say 
I  much  admire  Mr.  Coit ;  he  seems  to  be  such 
an  old  young  man,  but  I  do  admire  his  con 
sistency.  I  don't  believe  Christians  ought  to 
play  cards." 

Thereupon  arose  a  little  discussion,  while  as 
Mr.  Hanfort  dealt  the  cards,  Guilford,  who  ' 
had  risen,  stood  looking  with  a  strangely 
searching,  troubled  glance  into  his  face.  Sud 
denly  he  drew  a  long  breath,  went  towards 
the  card-playing  Christian,  touched  his  hand 
as  he  bent  down,  saying  "pardon  me,  sir, 
your  face  suggested  a  strong  likeness.  Did 
you  ever  know  or  hear  of  one  Jack  Hanfort, 
a  sailor  before  the  mast  ?  " 

"Did  I  know  him?"  a  pallor  crept  from 
brow  to  chin  as  the  man  turned,  the  tips  of 
his  fingers  contracting  over  the  cards.  Did 
you  know  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  did,"  replied  Guilford,  a  strange 
look  in  his  eyes. 

"  And  where  did  you  see  him  last  ?  "  still 


THE  FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  175 


queried  the  Christian  player,  as  the  cards  fell 
one  by  one,  sliding  gently  on  to  the  table  from 
his  now  nerveless  fingers. 

"  At  the    card-table,"   whispered  Guilford. 

Mr.  Hanfort  had  risen,  and  seizing  the 
young  man's  hand  with  a  terrible  grasp,  he 
said,  "let  us  go  by  ourselves,"  and  without  a 
word  of  apology,  he  left  the  invalid's  chair. 

"I  shall  begin  to  think,  as  Mr.  Grande 
says,  that  he  charms  every  body,"  said  Mary 
Leffingwell ;  "  there  is  that  very  liberal  profes 
sor  going  off  with  him.  Really  it  was  rather 
rude  in  him  to  leave  mamma  so  ;  we  must  find 
somebody  to  play  whist  with  her." 

Nearly  half  an  hour  elapsed  and  Mr.  Han- 
fort  was  still  absent.  Presently  Guilford 
came  in  alone,  very  pale.  Austin  Grande, 
who  had  volunteered  to  play  was  not  quite 
through  with  the  game,  but  Mrs.  Leffingwell 
pleaded  indisposition,  and  he  retired. 

"  Guilford,"  he  said,  meeting  him,  M  why 
how  white  you  look,  man !  Did  you  find  out 
who  that  Jack  really  was  ?  What !  his  son  ? 


176  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

And  it  was  he  who  blew  his  brains  out  ?  Hor 
rible  !  horrible !  what  a  lesson !  Where  is 
Mr.  Hanfort?" 

"  Gone  home,"  said  Guilford. 

"  I  wouldn't  let  it  get  round,  Mrs.  Leffing- 
well  is  such  an  invalid.  How  dull  it  has 
been!" 

"  I  have  thrown  the  shadow  I'm  afraid ;  peo 
ple  look  at  me  as  if  I  had,"  said  Guilford. 

"  You  have  thrown  a  shadow  deep  enough 
over  one  man,"  said  Austin,  "  but  then  it  was 
not  your  fault." 

"No,  he  would  hear  all,"  said  Guilford, 
shudderingly ;  the  two  were  alone  ;  they  had 
unconsciously  walked  along  towards  the  con 
servatory.  "  I  think  I  never  heard  such  mis 
erable  self-upbraiding.  Austin,  I  believe  I 
would  rather  be  a  thorough  out  and  out  un 
believer,  than  a  half-way  Christian,  professing 
to  have  come  from  the  the  world  and  yet  tam 
pering  with  its  forbidden  pleasures .  That  man 
may  blame  himself  for  the  ruin  of  his  boy  ;  I 
understand  he  was  an  only  son." 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  177 

w  Yes,  he  was,"  replied  Austin. 

"  Poor  man,  he  smote  his  breast,  with  the 
wild  cry, '  God  be  merciful ! '  I  did  not  know 
as  he  led  me  on,  that  it  was  of  his  own  son 
I  was  telling.  It  occurred  to  me  some  time 
before  that  possibly  it  was  a  nephew  or  a 
cousin,  and  when  I  came  to  that  last  scene  at 
the  card-table,  I  feared  for  a  moment  he  would 
die.  He  gasped,  and  his  eyes  stood  out  with 
the  violence  of  his  labor  for  breath . 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  after  a  few  moments  of  aw 
ful  agony ;  "  that  was  my  only  boy.  I  had 
given  him  up,  long  ago,  as  lost — irretrievably, 
if  not  dead  ;  but  you  have  opened  the  wound 
afresh.  O  !  my  son,  my  son  !  " 

A  moment  after  he  lifted  his  head,  his  face 
had  changed,  his  lips  were  quivering. 

"I  thank  you  for  that  rebuke,"  he  said, 
"  accursed  cards  !  never  shall  my  hands  be  pol 
luted  with  their  touch ;  oh  !  accursed  cards  ! 
O  !  I  have  killed  my  boy  !  my  boy  !  " 

"Well,  you  may  truly  say,  I  am  white, 
after  such  an  ordeal  as  that.  I  pitied  that 


178  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

man  as  I  think  I  never  pitied  a  human  being 
before.  I  could  not  comfort  him,  for  I  felt  as 
he  did,  that  he  had  but  himself  to  blame  for  the 
misconduct  of  his  child.  I  say  I  could  not 
comfort  him.  I  tried  to  lead  him  to  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  I  hope  I  succeeded  in  calling  his 
mind  somewhat  from  his  distracting  sorrow. 
It  would  have  been  a  lesson  for  wordly  pro 
fessors,"  he  added,  shaking  his  head ;  "  I  shall 
never  forget  it." 

w  Hark !  They  are  singing,"  said  Austin, 
a  few  moments  after. 

K  Perhaps  you  had  better  return,"  said  Guil- 
ford.  I  prefer  solitude  just  now,  and  this  dim 
light  suits  me." 

Austin,  left  him.  The  sad  story  he  had  just 
heard  made  him  unhappy ;  he  wanted  light, 
mirth,  music  to  dissipate  the  remembrance. 
He  went  into  the  lighted  rooms,  where  he  met 
the  Colonel,  who  had  just  come  in. 

"  Good  evening,  sir,  good  evening  !  "  said 
the  Colonel,  heartily ;  "  well,  has  our  pious 
chaplain  come  ?  how  does  he  get  along  ?  " 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PAETY.  179 


"  O !  father,  he's  been  giving  us  snch  lec 
tures,"  said  Mary,  who  overheard  the  question. 
"  I  really  didn't  know  for  the  moment,  but  he 
would  turn  the  party  into  a  prayer-meeting." 

"  Ah  !  did  he  begin  that  way  ?  Why  he's  a 
rough  cub,  isn't  he  ?  He  might  at  least  have 
waited  till  some  one  gave  him  leave  to  intro 
duce  his  piosities,  I  think." 

''He's  a  right  down  good  fellow,  father," 
said  Merric,  joining  in  warmly.  w  I  like  him, 
because  he  shows  just  what  he  is,  and  isn't 
ashamed  of  his  religion.  It  isn't  so  with  Mr. 
Hanfort,  and  some  others  I  could  mention. 
They  seem  to  go  about  with  their  heads  down 
crying  out,  'oh?  do  please  excuse  me,  for  be 
ing  a  professor  of  religion.  I  ain't  very  strict. 
I  can  still  indulge  in  a  few  little  trifling  sins. 
I  won't  intrude  my  sentiments  if  you'll  only 
tolerate  me ;  not  at  all.  I'll  put  on  as  world- 
sleek  a  face  as  any  of  you ;  you  shan't  know 
the  difference,  upon  my  word  ! '  Pretty  Chris 
tians  they  are ! " 

"  AVell  done,  Merric,  you'll  come  out  a  good 


180  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

theologian,  yourself  by-and-by,"  said  his 
father,  joining  in  the  laugh. 

An  hour  after  the  Colonel  saw  his  agent  in 
conversation  with  his  wife.  He  sighed  just  a 
little  as  he  thought  of  her  delicate  health,  and 
wondered  if  some  of  that  cant  the  young  dog 
had,  would  enable  his  poor,  weak  wife,  to  con 
trol  the  petty  unamiability  that  sometimes 
made  the  whole  household  unhappy. 

"But  I  don't  see  why  you  make  such  broad 
distinctions,"  Mrs.  Leffingwell  was  saying,  as 
she  pulled  nervously  at  the  pendants  of  a 
bracelet  that  hung  loosely  on  her  shrunken 
wrist. 

"  For  the  best  reason  in  the  world,"  said  the 
young  man,  gently ;  and  the  Colonel  was 
struck  with  the  sweet  peace  and  serenity  of 
the  countenance  he  was  watching.  "  Christ 
has  said,  'Come  ye  out  from  among  them — be 
ye  separate. '" 

"  Yes,  but  if  you  condemn  all  these  things, 
dancing  among  them,  what  would  our  young 
ladies  do  for  exercise,"  queried  Mrs.  Leffing 
well,  impatiently. 


THE   FASHIONABLE    PAETY.  181 


Guilford  smiled  involuntarily;  so  did  the 
Colonel ;  perhaps  the  same  thought  occurred  to 
both,  that  the  weakest  and  most  fastidious 
lady-invalids,  whose  health  would  not  admit 
of  the  least  unrefined  exercise,  who  would 
faint,  at  the  sight  of  a  broom-handle,  or  blush 
if  thought  capable  of  carrying  a  bundle  ten 
rods,  were  not  too  sickly  or  too  delicate  to 
sit  up  night  after  night,  dancing,  till  the  small 
•hours,  eating  ices,  being  whirled  about,  drink 
ing  wines,  standing  in  draughts,  and  bearing 
headaches  next  day,  with  the  most  unflagging 
heroism. 

"I  think  I  have  heard,  that  your  daughter 
does  not  dance,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  No ;  but  then  she  is  one  of  a  thousand. 
Such  a  queer  girl !  all  the  time  out  of  doors. 
And  would  you  believe  it?  she  works  like  a 
servant,  sometimes,  in.  I  never  could  make 
her  refined — never;  her  cheeks  are  red  as 
those  of  a  farmer's  daughter." 

"  But  that  is  the  result  of  exercise,  is  it  not  ? 
and  it  seems  she  does  not  dance  enough  to 


182  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

pale  her  cheeks,  and  unstring  her  nerves.  I 
think  she  is  a  living  proof  of  my  assertion 
that  there  is  no  need  of  these  relaxing  and  de 
bilitating  amusements,  and  Christ  knew  what 
was  best  for  the  body  and  purest  for  the  soul, 
when  he  condemned  them." 

"  Still,  you  religious  people  are  so  gloomy, 
always  putting  down  their  faces  to  the  requir 
ed  orthodox  length ;  always  protesting  against 
this  thing,  because  they  think  it  wrong,  or 
that  thing,  because  it  does  not  suit  their  views. 
You  are  great  egotists,"  said  the  lady,  sighing 
unconsciously. 

"  O !  madam,  you  really  wrong  us ;  the 
sunniest  people  I  know  are  those  who  live 
nearest  to  Christ.  I  grant  you  that  many 
give  themselves  unwilling  sacrifices ;  they  are 
not  living  up  to  the  exact  requirements  of 
Christ's  law ;  hence  they  are  always  under  the 
cloud  that  hides  a  sun  from  them.  They  know 
that  they  do  incline  to  evil ;  they  are  not  will 
ing  to  give  up  long  indulged  thoughts  and  pet 
habits,  and  thus  they  constantly  shroud  them- 


THE   FASI1IOXABLE   PARTY.  183 


selves  in  darkness  and  are  always  crying  out, 
'  oh  !  my  sin,  my  sin  ! '  No  wonder  it  is  ever 
before  them ;  they  keep  it  there  an  unclean 
thing,  more  foul  by  being  set  in  the  frame  of 
the  light  of  an  awakened  conscience.  Christ 
says  lput  away  the  unclean  thing ;'  they  say, 
'  let  me  keep  it  a  little  longer,  Lord ;'  and  thus 
they  make  themselves  perpetual  mourners. 
But  to  live  near  Christ,  to  see  all  things  as 
it  were  in  the  light  of  his  loving  look  or  re 
proving  glance,  why,  madam,  it  is  kingly; 
man  never  feels  his  greatness  without  it; 
the  nobility  of  the  stature  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
for  it  is  His  life  lived  in  this  human  temple. 
We  are  Christ's,  bought  with  a  price,  ransom 
ed  with  a  ransom  as  far  above  absolute  human 
comprehension,  as  the  stars  without  to-night 
are  higher  than  the  flames  of  these  lamps  about 
us.  You  say  Christians  are  always  protesting 
against  what  does  not  suit  their  views.  Par 
don  me,  madam,  no  real  Christian  would  pre 
sume  so  far ;  they  protest  only  against  what  is 
contrary  to  the  revealed  law  of  God,  either  as 


184  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


seen  by  its  invariable  results,  or  as  condemn 
ed  by  the  language  of  the  Bible." 

"  Upon  my  word,  we  are  having  a  sermon," 
said  the  Colonel,  "but  the  man  talks  well/' 

Perhaps  it  would  not  be  too  much  to  say 
that  the  Colonel's  wife  had  never  thought  so 
long  upon  a  subject,  of  such  vast  importance, 
in  all  the  days  of  her  life,  as  in  these  few  brief 
moments. 

"  But  to  become  thi  s  Christian  that  you 
speak  of,  one  must  give  up  everything,"  she 
said  ruefully. 

"  Yes,  madam,  you  are  right  there ;  one 
must  give  up  everything,"  he  spoke  with 
solemn  emphasis. 

"  Property,  friends,  even  husband,  wife  and 
children,"  exclaimed  the  lady  with  some  as 
perity. 

"Yes,  in  a  certain  sense  even  these  must  be 
renounced.  But  think  whom  we  give  them 
for,  to  whom  we  give  them  !  God,  who  al 
ready  holds  the  balance  of  their  fortunes  and 
of  their  lives.  They  are  no  less  yours  be- 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PAR1T.  185 

cause  they  are  Christ's,  they  are  no  more 
yours  because  you  withhold  them.  It  is  sweet 
er  to  receive  everything  from  Him ;  sweeter 
to  acknowledge  our  indebtedness  than  if  we 
felt,  ourselves  monarchs  of  our  fate.  But  then 
this  is  something  only  His  children  can  feel." 
He  lifted  his  eyes  and  caught  the  absorbed, 
almost  fascinated  gaze  of  Merric  Leffingwell. 
The  boy  stood  leaning  against  a  column,  his 
arms  folded,  his  head  thrown  back,  while  the 
mild  beautiful  radiance  of  his  soft  eyes  had 
changed  to  an  intense  throbbing  light.  For  a 
moment  the  two  stood  riveted,  each  as  it 
were  sounding  the  soul  of  the  other ;  then  a 
slow,  sweet  smile  crept  around  Guilford's 
lips,  trembled  up  to  the  serene  eyes,  the  fine 
brow;  and  Merric,  first  smiling,  pressed 
a  pair  of  quivering  lips  together  and  turned 
away  in  tears.  Guilford  almost  shivered  as 
an  overwhelming  thought  took  possession  of 
his  mind  :  "that  dear  boy  is  under  the  influence 
of  the  Spirit  of  God."  He  was  recalled  from 
the  rapt  and  solemn  joy  of  the  moment  by  a 
sharp  voice. 


186  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

w  It  all  sounds  very  well,  but  I  can't  see 
into  it." 

"No.  It  belongeth  only  to  those  whom 
Christ  enlightens,"  said  Guilford. 

"Who  does  he  enlighten,  pray?"  queried 
the  invalid. 

"Any — all  who  ask  for  enlightenment," 
responded  the  young  man. 

"  O  !  "  Mrs.  Leffingwell  placed  her  hand  on 
her  side,  and  her  cold,  gray  eyes  glittered. 
w  I  feel  quite  ill ;  pray  call  for  Mary — Mer- 
ric — "  she  sank  back,  white  with  sudden  pain. 
Her  children  and  her  husband  were  instantly 
at  her  side  \  the  chair  was  wheeled  into 
another  room,  and  all  amusement  was  for 
saken  except  card-playing.  Those  who  were 
sitting  at  the  table  only  turned  curious  faces, 
cried  "  what  is  it,"  dealing,  or  throwing  a  card 
down  as  they  spoke ;  then  rapt  and  forgetful 
they  kept  on,  never  heeding  or  caring  for  an 
answer  to  their  question.  Not  long  after, 
while  Guilford  was  speaking  to  Austin  with 
reference  to  returning,  the  Colonel  came  to- 


THE   FASHIONABLE    PARTY.  187 


wards  them,  with  the  double  announcement 
that  Mrs.  Leffingwell  was  much  better,  and 
that  supper  was  ready. 

"I  believe  I  will  not  go  in  to  supper,"  said 
Guilford,  aside  to  Austin. 

"  O  !  now,  don't  carry  your  good  works  too 
far,"  said  Austin,  lightly;  "you  have  made 
rather  a  favorable  impression  in  spite  of  your 
rigidity.  I  beg  you'll  go  just  in  and  taste,  for 
the  sake  of  the  looks  of  the  thing." 

Guilford  persuaded  himself  to  be  over 
ruled,  though  he  rightly  questioned  the  pro 
priety  of  these  late  feasts,  and  the  gay  com 
pany  were  soon  assembled,  where  ices,  cakes» 
and  fruits  were  dealt  round  with  liberal  hands. 
Then  came  the  wine.  The  Colonel  looked 
warily  round,  as  he  passed  the  red  glasses ; 
and  Guilford  shuddered,  as  he  saw  them 
pressed  to  lips  as  ruby. 

"You  take  wine,  Mr.  Coit,"  said  Merric, 
holding  forth  a  brimming  glass. 

"  No.  I  never  take  wine,"  was  the  quiet 
reply.  Merric  put  his  glass  down. 


188  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

"He  takes  it  on  the  sly,  or  when  he  is 
sick,"  said  Austin  banteringly. 

"I  never  take  it,"  rejoined  Guilford.  "I 
have  not  touched  wine,  since  to  save  a  fellow 
sailor,  I  put  my  signature  to  the  pledge,  four 
teen  years  ago. 

"  But  you  would  take  it,  were  you  sick," 
said  some  one. 

"  Not  consciously,"  replied  Guilford.  w  I 
was  very  sick  on  my  return  passage,  and  the 
captain  mixed  brandy  for  me  several  times, 
but  I  could  not  take  it.  Finally  at  the  worst, 
on  my  .refusing  it,  the  captain  cried  with  a 
great  oath,  '  then  let  him  die  ! '  But  I  didn't 
die  ;  and  I  didn't  drink  the  brandy,  either,"  he 
added,  smiling  towards  Merric. 

"  Then,  I  suppose  you  think  it's  wicked  for 
sick  people  ever  to  touch  wine,"  said  Austin, 
sipping  the  lemonade  he  held,  (he  never  drank 
wine) ,  and  pretending  to  be  much  exhilarated 
thereon.  Guilford's  look  said,  "  you  know  me 
better  than  that ;"  his  lips  replied,  r  I  am  no 
physician,  and  have  no  right  to  judge  in  any 
case  but  my  own." 


THE   FASHIONABLE   PARTY.  189 

M  Merric,  my  son,  don't  you  keep  us  com 
pany,  to-night?"  queried  the  Colonel.  The 
boy  had  not  touched  the  glass. 

"Thank  you,  father;  but  I  believe  I  had 
rather  not."  The  fair  cheek  reddened  as  he 
spoke,  but  there  was  something  like  a  frown 
on  the  Colonel's  brow.  Perhaps  a  thought 
marred  his  serenity,  thus  :  "that  fanatic  thinks 
he  is  going  to  have  the  rule  here.  He  is  mis 
taken." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HAGER    AT  PRAYER    AND   WHAT    HER    FATHER 
THOUGHT  ABOUT  IT. 

kULDA  stole  to  the  door  of  her  child's 
room.  She  had  noticed  the  regularity 
with  which  after  her  noon-day  meals  Hager 
had  retired  silently  to  her  chamber.  So 
noiselessly  the  mild-faced  woman  tripped  up 
the  stairs,  equipped  as  she  was  wont  to  be, 
towel  on  arm,  cap-strings  tied  carefully  be 
hind  her  neck,  sleeves  neatly  turned  and  fas 
tened  up,  displaying  a  still  plump  arm. 

A  pretty  little  place  it  was  in  which  she 
peeped,  wee,  white  and  tidy.  A  small  bed 
under  dimity  curtains,  a  few  low  chairs,  a 
bunch  of  flowers  on  the  table,  a  Bible  and  a 
little  show  of  token-books  carefully  treasured. 
The  door  was  shut,  but  like  nearly  all  the 
rest,  half  of  it  was  paned  with  glass,  so  that 


HAOAB  AT  PRAYEK.  191 


by  removing  the  little  curtain  carefully  the 
mother  saw — what? 

Hager  with  saintly  face  upturned,  hands 
clasped  ever  the  bed  coverlet,  with  closed 
eyes,  praying. 

Like  a  flood  the  tears  rushed  to  the  moth 
er's  lids  and  would  not  be  restrained.  Down 
they  rolled  thicker  and  faster  and  up  from  the 
burdened  heart  came  sobs  hard  to  be  conquer 
ed  ;  but  time  was  precious  and  labor  called. 
She  turned  away,  confronting  her  husband 
who  was  just  coming  up  the  stairs. 

«  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

What  impulse  was  upon  her  that  she  should 
silently  lift  the  curtain ;  silently  point  within. 

He  saw,  moved  away  with  a  frown  and  a 
muttered  oath. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  wife,"  he  said  as  he 
reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  turning 
sharply  round  confronted  her,  "that  Coit 
leaves  my  house  before  I'm  a  week  older ;  "  a 
quiver  of  passion  ran  through  his  voice.  w  My 
Hager  is  Saint  by  name,  but  she  shan't  be  a 


192  THE  MILL   AGENT. 

saint  by  nature  if  I  can  help  it.  I've  noticed 
the  girl  lately.  She  isn't  a  bit  as  she  used  to 
be,  flying  about  with  her  pretty,  loving  ways, 
and  singing  voice,  and  laughing  from  morning 
till  night.  I  want  none  of  your  pale,  long 
faces  about  me,  and  I'll  break  this  up,  now,  I 
tell  you." 

"Hush,  father,"  said  Hulda,  warningly, 
for  a  light  step  was  heard  coming.  Presently 
Hager's  arms  were  about  her  mother's  neck. 

w  O,  mother  !  mother  !"  she  murmured,  and 
the  very  tones  were  melody. 

"  What  is  it  darling?  "  queried  Hulda. 

"  O  !  mother,  I'm  so  happy  !  " 

She  turned  to  her  father,  her  sweet  face 
was  shining,  it  seemed  almost  as  if  a  holy 
flame  were  flickering  upon  it,  a  little  way  off. 

w  O  !  father,  dear  father,  dear  father  ! "  she 
cried  almost  passionately. 

The  evil  spirit  came  out  of  him  at  her 
yearning  glance ;  he  held  his  arms  open  and 
she  sprang  upon  his  bosom.  Strange  emo 
tions  penetrated  his  heart.  He  seemed  to 


HAGAR  AT  PRAYER.  193 


be  folding  something  purer,  brighter  than  be 
longed  to  him.  He  could  not  bear  to  release 
her. 

"  You're  going  to  the  mill,  now,  dear,"  he 
said  as  she  slid  gently  out  of  his  clasp. 

"  Yes,  father,  good-bye  ;  good-bye  mother.'* 

"  Good-bye  little  Toddles ;  good-bye,  dar 
ling,"  murmured  Tristam,  watching  her  as  she 
bounded  away. 

"  I'm  wondering,"  murmured  Hulda  with  a 
slow  voice,  and  slower  words,  as  she  turned 
away,  "  why  the  child  said  good-bye ;  she 
never  did  before." 

"Let  me  see;  Hager's  sixteen,  nigh,"  pon 
dered  Tristam,  throwing  himself  into  the 
kitchen  arm-chair,  while  his  wife  went 
busily  to  work. 

"No,  father!  not  these  two  months  yet,'* 
responded  Hulda  Saint ;  she  was  thinking  so 
reverently  of  that  sweet  vision  she  had  seen 
up-stairs. 

"  O  !  dear.  I  hope  she  never'll  think  of  get 
ting  married,"  said  Tristam  'with  a  sigh. 


194  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

"  We've  got  enough  to  keep  her  all  her  life." 

"That's  a  selfish  wish,  Tristam,"  responded 
Hulda ;  yet  the  momentary  thought  shadowed 
her  face  too.  "Poor  child!  we  little  know 
what  her  future  is  to  be  ;  and  I'm  glad — "  here 
she  stopped  abruptly,  casting  a  side  glance  at 
Tristam. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  glad  of  ?  " 

"That  I  saw  her  on  her  knees  up-stairs," 
said  Hulda,  stoutly;  "she'll  get  strength, 
there!" 

"  Fudge  !  "  muttered  Tristam,  kicking  the 
cat  crouching  at  his  feet,  which,  after  a  stare 
of  unmitigated  astonishment,  and  a  vigorous 
shake,  came  back  again. 

"Did  she  ask  you  anything.  I  mean,  has 
she  asked  you  anything,  lately?"  inquired 
Hulda,  making  a  great  noise  with  the  km'ves, 
as  she  gathered  them  up. 

w  Yes,  she  has  ;  and  you  put  it  into  her  head, 
I  suppose,"  was  the  reply. 

"  O  !  no,  father.  I  never  thought  of  it,  till 
she  came  to  me  about  it.  It  seems  to  be  her 
notion,  entirely. 


HAGAK   AT   PRAYER.  195 


"Then  she  spoke  to  you?" 
w  Yes,  she  spoke  to  me  first ;  it  was  natural, 
you  know ;  and  I  told  her  to  come  to  you.     I 

hope  you  wasn't  harsh  about  it,  father." 

"  I  just  give  her  a  flat  no  ;  that  was  all,  and 
told  her  not  to  ask  me  again ;  and  she  wont  in 
a  hurry,  I  guess." 

"  Poor  child !  she  seemed  so  set  upon  it. 
I  dreamed  about  it  last  night ;  now  I  think — " 
Hulda  paused  and  stood  reflective  over  the 
table.  "  Yes,  it  conies  to  me  ;  I  thought  I  felt 
dreadfully  about  it ;  about  your  not  wishing  it, 
you  know,  and  she  hurried  to  me.  Yes,  I  re 
member  the  same  expression  on  her  face,  that 
I  saw  to-day ;  the  very  same.  She  was  dress 
ed  in  white,  pure  beautiful  white,  and  says 
she,  "mother  dear,  I  wouldn't  grieve — wait 
patiently  ;  the  next  time  I  ask  him,  he'll  say 
"yes." 

"No,  I  wont,"  muttered Tristam,  doggedly, 

"I'll have  no  such  goings  on  here,  turning 

a  tavern  into  Sunday-school,  prayer-meeting, 

and  what  not.      It  all  comes  of  that  pious 


196  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


Goby  number  two,"  he  added  crossly,  rising 
and  walking  about.  "I  wish  I'd  said  no  to 
him  at  the  very  first.  You  wouldn't  catch  the 
Colonel  putting  up  with  his  airs  ;  he'd  have  to 
keep  a  close  mouth  in  his  presence,  I  tell  you. 
Colonel  wont  bear  such  things." 

"  But  I  hear  he  talked  right  out  at  the  grand 
party  the  Colonel  give.  They  say  he  carries 
his  religion  wherever  he  goes." 

"Hanged  if  he  shan't  carry  it  from  here, 
then,"  spoke  up  Tristam.  "He's  poisoned 
Hager's  mind,  and  now,  I  suppose,  he  wants 
to  try  on  ours." 

"  O  !  Tristam,  think  of  her  face  !  " 

"  Pshaw !  all  excitement  and  fanaticism. 
I'll  see  if  I  can't  root  it  out,  too." 

"Take  care,  take  care,  Tristam,"  responded 
his  wife. 

"I  say  I'll  have  an  end  of  it." 

"  Tristam,  Tristam,  think  of  the  Bible,  man  ; 
'he  that  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his 
neck,  shall  be  suddenly  destroyed,  and  that 
without  remedy.' " 


HAGEE   AT   PKAYEE.  197 


"  I'll  risk  it !  "  cried  Tristam,  in  a  loud,  de 
fiant  voice.  "  I'll  risk  it,"  he  repeated,  with 
almost  demoniac  fierceness.  "Hager's  mine. 
I  wont  give  her  up  even  to  God  !  " 

At  that  moment,  that  very  second  of  time, 
it  might  have  been,  came  the  doom  he  dared. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    MYSTEEIOUS    DISPENSATION. 

fT  was  a  warm,  autumn  afternoon.  Very 
cheerily  the  birds  sang  in  the  old  maples 
outside  the  mill,  till  the  noon-hush  came,  but 
even  after  that,  when  the  little  creatures,  in 
more  quiet  places  were  silent,  the  clash  and 
clatter  of  machinery  induced  the  mill  birds  to 
unwonted  exertions. 

"Isn't  it  a  sweet  afternoon?"  Hasn't  it 
been  a  beautiful  day  ?  " 

This  Hager  queried,  resting  a  moment  from 
her  work,  and  looking  over  from  the  open 
window  upon  the  slumbrous  hills  covered  with 
purple  brown  haze. 

"  I  wonder  if  this  earth  isn't  something;  like 

o 

heaven !    It  seems  as  if  it  must  be,  some 
times." 

198 


A  MYSTERIOUS   DISPENSATION.  199 


"  Hager,  what  makes  you  talk  of  heaven  so 
much,  lately?"  asked  Sarah  Church,  looking 
seriously  into  the  soft  eyes  of  the  child. 

"  I  don't  know,  without  it's  because,  I  think 
of  it  a  great  deal.  O !  Sarah,"  she  cried 
quickly,  eagerly,  "I  don't  know  what  it  is, 
this  happiness ;  I  never  had  it  before ;  not 
even  when  I  have  thought  I  was  as  happy  as  I 
could  be.  Sarah — "  she  drew  near  her  friend 
blushing,trembling,  yet  unwontedly  animated  ; 
"  I  think  it's  the  praying.  Do  you  go  and 
pray  every  day  all  alone  by  yourself,  and 
you'll  find  out  what  it  is.  I  can't  explain  it, 
but  Mr.  Coit  can." 

Sarah  had  stood  spell-bound,  looking  pale 
and  sideways  at  the  child,  for  was  there  not 
something  in  that  dear  face  that  had  never 
been  there  before  ?  something  that  made  her 
heart  shudder  as  well  as  glow  ? 

She  came  slowly  out  of  the  spell,  saying, 
softly,  "  I  know,  darling,  prayer  is  everything^ 
for  when  I  have  been  in  a  great  strait,  if  I 
prayed,  there  came  an  answer.  But  oh ! 


200  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

Hager,  when  all  is  quiet  again,  how  soon  we 
forget?" 

"  It  don't  seem  as  if  I  could  forget,"  spoke 
Hager,  and  an  inward  smile  brightened  her 
sweet  face.  "  Why,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is," 
she  said,  after  some  moments  of  deep 
thought.  w  There  isn't  the  least  fear  now. 
I  don't  know  why,  but  I  always  was  a  fright 
ened  thing.  Mother  knew  it,  and  pitied  me, 
and  always  left  me  a  lamp  of  nights,  because 
if  I  locked  the  door  ever  so  tight,  still 
there  was  a  something  that  I  was  afraid  of, 
unless  the  lamp  burned.  Well,  last  night  and 
the  night  before,  I  knew  I  didn't  need  the 
lamp.  I  put  it  out,  and  someway  felt  a  pleas 
ure  in  the  darkness,  for  I  was  sure  I  was  not 
alone.  Just  think !  for  years  and  years  I 
havn't  done  that ;  there  must  be  something  in 
it,  you  see,  it  takes  away  all  fear." 

"I've  heard  so,"  said  Sarah  thoughtfully, 
seemingly  fully  conscious  what  the  word  '  it' 
interpreted. 

"Then  there's  another  fear  I  had,"  Hasrer 

*  o 


A   MYSTERIOUS    DISPENSATION.  201 

murmured,  going  on  quietly  with  her  work ; 
"  and  that  was  of  death.  I  never  saw  any 
body  die ;  I  never  heard  much  about  it.  But 
there  it  was,  like  a  shadow  that  follows  one 
all  the  time ;  you  know  it  may  be  so  near. 
Well,  it  don't  trouble  me  now,"  she  looked  up 
with  such  a  sunny  smile ;  "  it's  all  gone,  the 
fear  is  all  gone ;  isn't  it  wonderful  ? " 

"  Wonderful,  indeed !  "  thought  Sarah,  but 
she  did  not  speak,  and  her  mental  answer 
had  reference  more  to  Hager's  countenance ; 
the  tenfold  enhanced  beauty  of  her  winning 
words  and  ways. 

"  I  never  would  have  thought  of  talking  of 
such  things  before,  even  to  mother,"  Hager 
Avent  on  "but  something  makes  me  wish, 
this  afternoon,  that  everybody  knew  what 
this  happiness  is  I  " 

Sarah  was  still  silent,  and  thoughtful.  She 
had  heard  oftentimes,  how  the  Spirit  of  God 
dealt  with  the  human  heart,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  a  messenger  had  been  sent  to  her  in  accor 
dance  with  the  Divine  purpose,  to  lead  her  in 
the  way  the  young  disciple  had  found. 


202  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


It  happened  that  she  left  her  work  early 
that  afternoon,  as  she  was  to  go  to  the  next 
village  for  her  father. 

She  kissed  Ilager  as  she  went,  and  linger 
ing,  she  knew  not  why,  went  very  slowly 
down  the  stairs,  her  mind  still  excited  by 
what  she  had  heard  from  the  lips  of  little 
Hager.  As  she  passed  the  office  of  the  agent, 
Guilford  was  just  coming  towards  the  door. 
He  smiled  as  they  met,  and  held  out  his  hand 
in  his  usual  frank,  kindly  way. 

"  Well,  what  news  from  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Almost  the  best,"  was  her  reply.  "  Father 
is  getting  on  bravely.  You  should  have  seen 
him  when  the  new  set  of  tools  came  this 
morning." 

"Pleased,  was  he?"  responded  Guilford. 

"As  a  child.  He  went  to  work  immedi 
ately,  and  I  fear  I  shall  find  him  utterly  ex 
hausted,  he  is  so  excitable !  such  an  en 
thusiast  !  " 

"  He  wants  the  strength  of  Christ,  for  bal 
last,"  said  Guilford.  "Perhaps  that  thought 


A   MYSTERIOUS    DISPENSATION.  203 


was  in  your  mind,  when  you  said  concerning 
the  home-news,  '  almost  the  best.'  " 

She  smiled  thoughtfully.  "It  certainly 
Avas,"  was  the  reply;  "or  something  very 
like." 

There  was  a  strange  sound  above  stairs. 
They  both  remarked  it,  but  thought  it  noth 
ing  unusual,  and  Sarah  went  on.  Why  she 
lingered,  once  outside  the  mill  door,  she  could 
not  tell.  Her  business  required  haste,  but 
she  fell  suddenly  in  a  bewildered  state,  that 
held  her  footsteps  unaccountably. 

Presently  there  was  a  voice  :  it  called  her 
name.  She  looked  back.  A  trembling,  hag 
gard  figure  stood  in  the  door-way — its  eyes 
blank,  its  lips  ashen. 

"  O  !  Sarah,  Sarah  Church !  you  can't  tell 
what's  happened  !  "  issued  from  the  quivering 
mouth. 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  Sarah  stood  still 
in  amaze,  feeling  as  if  the  whole  world  had 
suddenly  grown  dark. 

"  O  !  Sarah  Church," — the  voice  was  almost 


204  THE   HELL   AGENT. 


drowned  in  tears — "  it's  awful !  That  dear 
little  Hager — Hager — " 

Sarah  paused  no  longer.  Dashing  through 
the  door-way,  she  hurried  up  the  stairs  at  a 
frantic  speed.  The  mill  was  as  still  as  death  ; 
all  the  wondrous  wheels  had  ceased  vibrating ; 
how  was  it  with  the  little  wheel  of  the  more 
wonderful  machinery  of  Hager  Saint's  sweet 
life.  Sarah's  heart  beat  with  deadly  strokes 
as  she  thought  of  this,  and  pushed  on  through 
throngs  of  horror-stricken  operatives,  on  to 
the  principal  crowd  where  she  knew  the 
question  would  be  solved. 

The  dear  child  !  the  patient  child,  there  she 
lay — needless  to  tell  how,  in  the  arms  of  Guil- 
ford  Coit — not  gone  yet;  but,  some  gasped 
with  hot  tears,  how  much  better  if  it  were  so. 
Her  eyes,  unnaturally  large,  were  fastened  on 
his  face.  The  white,  beaded  drops  of  an 
guish  stood  on  her  forehead — dear  sufferer  I 
patient  lamb  ! 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  oh,  tell  me  !  "  whis 
pered  Sarah,  pressing  her  hands  with  a  clasp 
like  locked  marble  over  her  heart. 


A  MYSTERIOUS    DISPENSATION.  205 


K  We  don't  know,  except  that  we  saw  her 
drawn  under  the  shaft,"  said  an  elderly  wo 
man  who  stood  near.  They  were  just  stopping 
the  machinery,  or — "  she  shuddered  and  turn 
ed  away. 

"Who — who  will  tell  her  father?"  whisper 
ed  Sarah  Church. 

w  As  soon  as  they  get  something  made  to 
carry  her  on,  you  see  they  are  at  work,  word 
will  be  sent  at  once.  Who  will  go  I  know 
not,  unless  it  is  the  agent ;  I  would  n't  for 
the  world." 

Sarah  felt  her  heart  sink.  The  utter  deso 
lation  of  that  household  swept  like  a  wave 
over  her  being.  Tristam  Saint's  love  for  his 
child  was  a  household  proverb  :  w  as  much  as 
Tristam  Saint  loves  little  Hager." 

For  "  little  Hager  "  she  had  always  been,  and 
to  those  who  knew  her  always  would  be. 
Her  blue,  laughing  eyes  and  innocent  face, 
scarcely  changed  as  did  her  stature — and  from 
being  such  a  pet  at  home,  all  her  ways  were 
winning  and  child-like. 


206  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"  The  bed  was  made  of  soft  wool  and  cot 
ton,  and  Guilford  decided  that  he  would  pre 
cede  the  sad  burden  and  tell  the  sorrowful 
news  as  best  be  could.  But  when  he  started 
from  her  side,  she  evinced  great  agitation,  and 
the  falling  tears  and  yearning  glance  told  that 
she  wanted  his  presence  in  her  suffering. 

Seeing  this,  Guilford  Coit  looked  around 
him.  "Who  will  go?"  he  asked,  and  his 
eye  fell  on  Sarah.  For  a  moment  a  coldness 
like  death  came  over  her,  but  remembering 
little  Hager's  own  simple  words,  she  prayed, 
and  then  with  a  mournful  firmness  she  said, 
"I  will  go." 

She  turned  silently  and  left  the  room, 
hearing  behind  her  the  slow  tramp  of  those 
who  were  bearing  the  sorrowful  burden.  All 
the  way  she  heard,  or  seemed  to  hear,  that 
deep  measuring  of  footsteps.  Hager's  moth 
er  stood  out  on  the  porch,  white  with  her  sud 
den  fear,  for  afar  off  she  had  seen  a  sight  un 
usual  in  that  quiet  place,  and  without  speak 
ing  to  her  husband,  who  was  taking  his  nap 


A  MYSTERIOUS   DISPENSATION.  207 


in  the  bar-room,  she  came  out  to  inquire  what 
it  meant.  The  face  of  Sarah  Church  smote  her 
with  yet  a  sharper  dread ;  all  her  mother's 
fears  were  roused. 

"Sarah,  what  has  happened?  How  you 
look  !  Something  has  frightened  you — is  it 
Mr.  Coit;  is  he  hurt?  or  Mr.  Grande,  Sarah?" 
she  sobbed  falteringly,  catching  at  both  shoul 
ders  as  the  young  girl  stood  before  her.  "  Is 
it — "a  great  gasp  came,  but  not  the  word. 

"  O,  Mrs.  Saint  you  will  be  calm,"  trembled 
Sarah.  "  Hager  is  hurt,  we  don't  know  how 
much.  The  doctor  is  coming  with  them  ;  is 
there  a  bed  ready  ?  " 

"  Hager  ?  Hager  hurt  ?  a  bed  ready  ?  "  mut 
tered  the  woman  vaguely,  turning  from  side 
to  side,  trembling  all  over  like  a  frail  leaf 
shaken  in  the  gale.  What  will  Tristam  say? 
Don't  tell  Tristam,"  she  pleaded,  not  moving, 
however ;  the  news  seemed  to  have  rooted  her 
to  the  spot. 

"No,  but  dear  Mrs.  Saint,  shall  I  go  in? 
they  are  almost  here,  and  there  must  be  a  bed 
ready." 


208  THE  MILL  AGENT. 


"  There  are  beds  all  over  the  house,"  sobbed 
Hulda,  her  lips  growing  white  while  she  held 
out  her  clasped  hands  in  an  attitude  of  dumb, 
deep  agony.  "  O  !  Sarah,  Sarah  !  what  will 
Tristam  say? 

The  men  had  drawn  quite  near,  and  Mrs. 
Saint  flew  towards  the  pale  burden  they  bore, 
for  Hager  was  quite  insensible  now.  The 
noise  they  made  awoke  the  tavern-keeper  who 
came  to  the  door  in  the  jolliest  of  moods,  a 
broad  smile  on  his  face,  for  he  expected  cus 
tomers  from  the  lower  village.  It  was  awful 
to  see  the  instantaneous  change  from  a  hilarous 
mirth  to  a  ghastly  wonder.  His  large  frame 
fell  back  instantly  against  the  house,  then 
with  a  sudden  bound  he  cleared  the  portico, 
pushed,  regardless  of  persons,  one  and  another 
from  between  him  and  that  white  face,  and 
with  a  groan  like  a  yell,  he  fell  on  his  knees 
at  the  side  of  his  child. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  tell  me  thafr  you've  killed 
her,  any  of  you,"  he  shrieked  out  almost 
savagely. 


A   MYSTERIOUS    IENS-ON.  209 


"She  must  be  carried  in  the  house  im 
mediately,"  said  Guilford  Coit,  in  a  calm  low 

4 

voice. 

"  You  have  done  it ;  you  have  brought  evil 
on  my  house,"  growled  the  half  crazy  man,  as 
he  encountered  the  eye  of  Guilford. 

"  Everything  depends  upon  expedition  now," 
said  the  agent,  resolutely ;  "  lead  the  way, 
mother,"  he  added  gently  to  the  half  fainting 
woman,  who  stood  there  powerless,  as  Guil 
ford  took  the  slender  form  in  his  arms. 

Tristain  seemed  now  beginning  to  compre 
hend.  The  great  drops  of  sweat  started  to 
his  brow ;  he  clenched  his  hands  and  groaned 
in  the  bitterness  of  his  spirit,  as  he  passively  fol 
lowed  Guilford,  who  deposited  his  burden  on 
her  mother's  bed.  Tristam  walked  the  ad 
joining  room,  uttering  fearfully  spasmodic 
groans.  Hager,  his  idol,  bruised,  broken, 
dying  perhaps. 

"  O  !  doctor,"  he  cried,  clinging  to  the  latter 
as  he  passed  him,  "she's  gone,  isn't  she? 
dead,  isn't  she?  Tell  me,  doctor,  tell  me  the 
worst." 


^THE 


210  THK    MILL    ACJKNT. 

O 

"  She  is  still  living,"  said  the  young  phy 
sician. 

"  But  dying — she  will  never  speak  to  me  ; 
never  know  me  ;  oh  !  doctor,  doctor,  don't  tell 
me  that." 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say,"  replied  the 
doctor.  "  She  must  be  kept  perfectly  quiet ; 
much  depends  upon  that.  Do  not  distress  her 
by  your  sorrow,  if  she  comes  out  of  this  fit." 

"  If  she  comes  out  of  it !"  cried  Tristam, 
wringing  his  hands,  and  a  great  burst  of  an 
guish  followed,  mingled  with  terrible  im 
precations. 

ft 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

**  --•  ": 

GRANDE    THE    DOUBTER. 

INGE  the  night  of  the  party  at  Eose 
Hedge,  Mrs.  Leffingwell  had  twice  sent 
for  Guilford.  The  impression  made  upon  her 
mind  at  that  time,  appeared  to  be  slowly  but 
steadily  deepening.  Mary,  seeing  how  her 
mother's  attention  seemed  more  abstracted 
from  the  things  of  the  world,  grew  even  more 
gentle  and  willing ;  and  when  she  was  request 
ed  to  read  from  the  holy  Scripture,  did  so 
with  a  voice  and  manner  proving  that  in  her 
heart  there  were  indications  of  a  need,  such 
as  nothing  in  the  world  could  meet.  She 
however  struggled  mightily  against  such  con 
victions,  inasmuch  as  they  showed  to  her  the 
unsatisfying  nature  of  earthly  enjoyments, 
which  she  could  jiot  yet  resign.  Guilford's 
Sabbath  days  (and  two  had  gone  since  the 


212  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


terrible  accident  happened  to  Hager),  were 
passed  almost  wholly  in  her  sick  room.  If 
Guilford  could  only  soothe,  sit  by  her,  and 
hold  her  hand,  Hager  seemed  unwontedly 
happy.  The  tears  of  pain  were  withheld,  and 
smiles,  calm  and  holy,  took  their  place.  If 
he  read  to  her,  modulating  his  voice  to  slow, 
low  music,  her  eyes  sparkled  with  an  almost 
heavenly  light.  She  did  not  seem  to  require 
his  care  when  she  knew  that  he  was  employed 
at  the  mill,  but  for  the  hour  of  its  close  she 
looked  with  longing  eyes,  and  her  face  grew 
radiant  when  he  appeared.  Sometimes  Aus 
tin  Grande  sat  in  the  room  with  him.  It  was 
a  large,  cheerful  apartment,  fragrant  in  sum 
mer  with  the  scent  of  sweet-briar  and  helio 
trope,  that  came  in  from  the  little  garden, 
which  had  been  Hager's  special  care. 

The  child  had  only  been  moved  by  loving 
hands  since  the  accident ;  she  could  not  help 
herself.  It  was  touching  to  see  the  unearthly 
resignation  with  which  she  bore  her  misfor 
tune. 


GRAXDE   T1IE    DOUBTER.  213 


w  If  anything  would  convince  me  of  the 
reality  of  religion,"  said  Austin,  one  Sabbath 
morning,  when  Hager  had  fallen  into  a  re 
freshing  sleep,  "it  would  be  the  state  of  that 
child.  Her  very  face  speaks  of  peace ;  but 
then  she  was  always  a  gentle  and  happy  crea 
ture.  There  are  some  natures  that  are  mir 
acles  to  us  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  I 
think  hers  is  one ;  for,  during  the  three  years 
I  have  lived  here,  I  never  saw  her  otherwise 
than  as  she  is  now." 

"But  is  it  nature,"  asked  Guilford  "that 
teaches  her  that  wonderful  resignation  to 
God's  will  ?  Have  you  ever  heard  one  word 
of  repining  because  she  was  cut  down  in  an 
untimely  moment,  and  laid  upon  a  bed  of  al 
most  unremitting  torture  ?  Think  of  it,  Aus 
tin;  a  young  creature  hardly  yet  sixteen, 
capable  of  such  exquisite  enjoyment ;  willing 
to  drink  the  cup  of  suffering  and  death ;  and 
not  only  willing,  but  rejoicing  that  she  is 
going  to  die." 

Austin  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
spoke  again, 


214  THE  MILL   AGENT. 

w  She  knows  the  wish  for  life  is  unavailing, 
and  that  soon  she  will  be  free  from  pain  and 
trouble.  I  tell  you,  Guilford  Coit,  that  were 
I  lying  where  she  is,  the  prospect  of  release 
from  all  suffering  so  near,  I  think  I  should  be 

as  willing  to  go  as  she  is." 

"  But  would  you  have  the  same  faith,  the 
same  sublime  hope  ?  Could  you  exclaim  with 
her,  'I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth?'"  ask 
ed  Guilford. 

"No,"  replied  Austin,  severely,  "simply 
because  I  do  not  know.  Women  and  children 
are  easy  to  be  entreated.  They  will  believe 
in  the  merest  vagaries,  the  most  absurd 
chimeras,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  you  class  the  hope  of  immortality, 
the  glorious  belief  of  a  holy  existence  be 
yond  the  narrow  boundary  of  death,  among 
c  himeras ;  the  faith  that  transforms  the  sen 
sualist  into  the  pure  and  devout  believer,  the 
trust  in  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
among  mere  vagaries.  Language  cannot  tell 
how  sincerely  I  pity  you,"  said  Guilford,  and 
lip  and  voice  trembled. 


GRANDE    THE    DOUBTER.  215 


w  I  do ;  I  think  them  all  the  veriest  delu 
sions,"  Austin  exclaimed,  his  brow  growing 
dark.  "They  are  beautiful  while  they  last, 
no  doubt,  though  they  make  a  man  a  thorough 
egotist,  but  as  I  see  them  I  can  find  no  foun 
dation  to  stand  upon.  A  say  so,  will  not  do 
for  me,  and  no  one  ever  came  back  to  prove 
the  spirit's  immortality." 

"  Except  the  Saviour  of  men,"  said  Guilford, 
pained  to  his  heart. 

"  Ah  !  that,  too,  is  a,  '  they  say,' "  replied 
Austin,  gloomily. 

"  Thank  God  that  it  was  ever  recorded  !  " 
exclaimed  Guilford  with  Christian  fervor. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  voice  spoke,  clear, 
sad  and  solemn. 

"O!  Mr.  Grande,  do  believe  in  Jesus." 
The  plaintive,  tearful  tones  startled  them  both, 
and  turning  they  saw  Hager's  face,  pale  to  a 
deathly  whiteness  with  emotion. 

"Why  should  I,  child,  why  should  I?"  the 
young  man  asked,  hurriedly  going  towards 
the  bed. 


216  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


w  Because  there  is  nothing  else  worthy  to  be 
loved,"  spoke  the  suffering  girl.  "  Oh !  if  I 
could  only  tell  you  how  beautiful  He  is  !  "  she 
reiterated,  with  holy  rapture.  "  While  I  lie 
here,  I  think  and  wonder  if  anything  can  be 
compared  to  Him.  I  think  of  the  sun,  the 
stars,  the  glorious  mountains,  the  flowers,  the 
love  of  my  father  and  mother,  but  they  are  all 
as  nothing  to  Him ;  all  as  nothing,"  she  mur 
mured  reverently.  "  To  see  Him,  to  be  with 
Him,  is  worth  all  this  pain.  I  wish  you  knew 
how  glorious  He  is." 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  believe  as  you  do, 
little  Hager,  if  I  only  could." 

"  O  !  you  can  !  f  with  the  heart  man  believ- 
eth  unto  salvation,'  with  the  heart,  Mr.  Grande. 
If  you  would  only  pray  as  I  did,  pray  till  it 
comes,"  she  said. 

w  Till  what  comes  ?  "  queried  Austin. 

"Believing;  it's  all  in  believing,"  said  Ha 
ger,  smiling  upon  him. 

Hager's  father  was  below  stairs  much  of 
his  time.  He  could  not  endure  the  sick 


GRANDE   THE   DOUBTER.  217 

chamber  of  his  child,  nor  understand  why  she 
had  been  thus  smitten  and  afflicted.  He  could 
not,  or  rather,would  not  be  reconciled,  nor  call 
it  the  will  of  God.  He  charged  the  Deity  with 
revenge  and  mocked  Him  in  his  desolation. 
He  hardened  his  own  heart,  and  even  the 
gentle  pleadings  of  his  idolized  child  had  ap 
parently  but  little  effect  upon  his  unhappy 
mood. 

"  What  has  she  done,  that  God  should  af 
flict  her  so  ? "  was  his  fierce  query.  w  Why 
did  he  choose  Hager  from  among  all  the  rest  ? 
Other  people  had  three  and  four  children 
there,  and  they  were  all  spared.  Say  what 
you  will,  it  was  cruel,  it  was  vindictive.  I 
never  will  think  otherwise." 

With  his  mind  his  body  seemed  to  suffer 
correspondingly.  From  the  sleek,  portly 
landlord,  he  had  come  to  be  the  thin,  white- 
lipped,  sunken-cheeked  misanthrope.  One 
would  scarcely  have  recognised  him,  as  he 
stood  there  on  the  Sunday  in  which  the  two 
young  men  sat  with  Hager,  leaning  against 


218  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


one  of  the  portico-posts,  his  attitude,  that  of 
a  man  in  despair.  In  this  position  the  stately 
Colonel  found  him. 

"  Well,  Saint,"  said  the  latter,  reining  in  his 
powerful  horse,  "  you're  looking  bad,  man ; 
you  need  exercise  ;  you're  fretting  yourself  to 
death.  We  must  all  have  our  troubles,  you 
know,  and  it  wont  do  to  let  them  wear 
upon  us." 

"  If  it  was  an  ordinary  trouble,  I  could  bear 
it,"  muttered  the  landlord,  hanging  his  head. 

"  It's  a  bad  case,  no  two  ways  about  that," 
said  the  Colonel.  "  But  then  there's  a  skeleton 
in  every  man's  house.  Look  at  me  ;  no  know 
ing  when  my  poor  wife  will  go.  Where's 
Coit?" 

"He's  up  stairs  with  Hager.  He's  a  great 
comfort  to  the  child." 

"Yes,  yes,  he's  got  the  faculty.  Magnet 
ism,  I  suppose  it  is,  or  some  other  charm. 
Takes  with  women,  especially  if  they're 
weakly,  with  a  rush.  Here's  my  wife  sent 
me  down  after  him  ;  wants  to  talk  about  reli- 


GRANDE   THE   DOUBTER.  219 


gion,  as  people  generally  do  in  that  state  ;  may 
want  to  myself.  But  hang  it,  what's  come 
over  the  town,  Saint?  the  old  place  isn't  like 
itself.  Used  to  be  cheerful,  but  it's  dull  as 
death,  now.  How  is  Hager?" 

tf  Very  bad,  Colonel,"  and  tears  rushed  into 
Tristam's  eyes. 

"  Not  hopeless,  I  trust." 

"  Yes,  hopeless.  O  !  if  I  had  only  died  be 
fore  this  come." 

The  pathos,  the  real  anguish  in  the  voice, 
made  the  Colonel  turn  his  head  away,  sud 
denly. 

"  Well,  after  all,  Saint,  it's  a  hard  sort  of  an 
old  world,  ain't  it?  Used  to  look  pretty 
bright  to  me,  too,  and  does  now,  sometimes ; 
but  in  comes  misfortune,  or  sickness,  or  death, 
and  sets  us  adrift.  Look  here,  where  is  Coit? 
I  ought  to  be  in  a  hurry  ?  " 

"He  is  up-stairs  ;  I  will  call  him." 

Guilford  made  his  appearance  in  a  mo 
ment. 

"Take  Grande  and  go  up  town,  will  you? 
My  wife  wants  to  see  you,"  said  the  Colonel. 


220  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"  Is  she  ill,  again  ?  "  queried  Guilford. 

"No  worse  than  usual,"  was  the  reply; 
"  good  morning,  Mr.  Coit.  Don't  let  her  talk 
more  than  half  an  hour." 

Guilford  left  Hager  with  some  reluctance, 
but  her  mother  sat,  her  face  assumedly  cheer 
ful,  in  his  place ;  and  Austin  and  the  agent 
took  their  way  towards  Rose-Hedge. 

"  What  a  beautiful  morning !  "  said  Guil 
ford. 

"  To  you,  I  dare  say,"  responded  Austin. 

"  And  it  would  be  to  you,  if  only — oh  !  my 
friend,  why  will  you  stay  in  the  dark?  Why 
not  come  out  in  God's  glorious  light  ?  " 

"I  don't  see  any  light,"  was  the  reply. 

"Austin,  where  are  you?"  Guilford  stop 
ped  in  his  walk. 

"  In  doubting  Castle,"  replied  Austin,  smil 
ing  gloomily. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  out  ?  " 

"  A  giant  guards  the  door,"  was  the  reply. 

"  God  is  greater  than  the  giant  Unbelief," 
responded  Guilford. 


GRANDE    THE    DOUBTER.  221 

*  I  don't  know  Him,"  was  the  reckless  an 
swer. 

They  were  nearing  the  door  of  the  work 
house.  Three  decrepid  men,  and  a  few 
women,  were  gathered  in  a  group  on  the  front 
porch.  Here  and  there  a  child  stood,  or 
played  with  the  flowers  that  grew  wild. 

In  their  midst  sat  the  old  man  Goldby, 
reading  aloud,  and  that  so  intently,  that  he 
did  not  see  his  friend.  The  distant  corn  fields, 
the  pretty  farm  houses,  the  hills  in  magnificent 
reaches,  swelling  against  the  horizon,  and  the 
white-headed  old  man,  bending  over  the  holy 
book,  made  a  picture  that  lacked  not  beauty, 
aided  as  it  was  by  the  spirituality  of  the  good 
Christian's  countenance. 

w  Yes,  Jesus  came  to  save  that  which  was 
lost,"  repeated  the  aged  reader,  looking  with 
a  loving  smile  over  his  little  band  of  lame 
and  halt  and  blind.  "Temptations,  trials, 
and  sorrows,  ought  not  to  overcome  us, 
while  we  have  a  prince  who  gave  his  life 
for  us,  sitting  forever  at  the  right  hand  of 


222  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


God.  How  pleasant  it  will  be,  Jiin  Lane, 
when  you  get  ready  to  go,  to  throw  away  the 
old  crutch,  and  walk  with  the  light  step  of  a 
young  man,  again,  over  the  golden  streets  of 
the  New  Jerusalem.  And  you,  Betsy  Gray, 
who  cannot  see  the  glories  of  even  this  poor 
earth,  how  will  your  new  eyes  be  dazzled  by 
the  splendor  of  the  throne,  and  the  glory  of 
the  wonders  of  that  beautiful  home?  You 
too,  Elizabeth  Eaton,  whose  poor  body  is 
racked  with  pain  from  daylight  to  twilight) 
you  shall  rest  there,  and  never  shall  you  say, 
'  I  am  sick  ! '  The  vigor  that  made  us  able  to 
bear  fatigue  in  our  youth,  the  lightness  of 
frame  that  exhilarated  and  gave  strange  joy, 
will  all  come  back  again.  There'll  be  no 
sighing,  no  tears,  no  night,  but  all  one  long, 
bright  glory." 

"  Wont  it  be  beautiful?  "  an  old  man  lisped, 
in  a  voice  filled  with  grateful  awe. 

"Yes,  it  will  be  heaven,  heaven  !  "  murmur 
ed  the  blind  Betsey  Gray.  "O,  'tis  good  to 
love  Jesus." 


GRANDE   THE   DOUBTER.  223 

Guilford  turned  silently  to  Austin,  and  was 
surprised  to  see  him  looking  over  to  the 
farthest  hill,  not  a  trace  of  emotion  on  his 
face.  fc  He  had  masked  himself  well. 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  said  Guilford,  and  without 
disturbing  the  group  on  the  alms  house  porch, 
they  continued  their  walk  to  Rose  Hedge. 

Mary  Leffingwell  met  them  at  the  door  with 
a  courteous  manner.  Under  an  appearance  of 
great  indifference  she  hid  the  signs  of  an  un 
easy  and  awakened  conscience.  In  truth,  she 
both  dreaded  and  liked  the  new  agent.  A 
superior  discernment  revealed  to  her  that  he 
was  far  beyond  the  average  of  mankind,  in  all 
points  that  went  to  make  up  his  character. 
She  even  admired,  haughty  as  she  was,  the 
outspoken  frankness  of  his  speech,  whenever 
religious  subjects  were  introduced,  and  sin 
was  fearlessly  rebuked  by  him. 

w  I'll  go  to  the  conservatory,"  said  Austin, 
as  Guilford  and  himself  entered  the  sitting- 
room. 

w  Go,"  said  Guilford,  "and  I  pity  you  if  you 


224  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


do  not  see  God  in  the  humblest  flower  He  has 
made,"  he  added  to  himself. 

Maud  Mary  led  the  way  to  her  mother's 
room.  It  was  on  the  ground  floor,  large  and 
airy,  and  scattered  about  were  many  evidences 
of  the  wealth  and  taste  of  the  occupants.  Mrs. 
Leffingwell  was  seated  in  an  easy  chair.  Her 
face  looked  thinner  and  more  spiritual  than 
was  its  wont. 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  to 
Guilford,  holding  out  he.r  hand.  "  Here  I  sit 
as  now,  day  after  day ;  it  is  very  wearisome." 

"It  must  be,"  responded  Guilford,  pity  in 
his  voice. 

"I'm  not  very  happy,  either,"  continued 
Mrs.  Leffingwell,  and  round  the  rims  of  her 
eyes  the  tears  began  to  crowd.  "  It  used  to 
give  me  some  satisfaction  to  dress,  and  to 
play  cards,  but  now,  I  don't  know  why  it  is, 
I  can't  take  any  comfort  in  either." 

"The  immortal  soul  craves  immortal  em 
ployment,"  said  Guilford. 

"  I  begin  to  see  that,"  said  Mrs.  Leffingwell, 


GRANDE   THE    DOUBTER.  225 


softly  stroking  the  head  of  a  pet  spaniel  that 
placed  its  fore  paws  on  her  knee  and  was  re 
garding  her  with  fond  eyes.  K  You  don't  know 
how  I  feel,  Mr.  Coit,  when  I  look  back ;  why, 
what  a  dead,  dreary  waste  it  seems  !  I  have 
not  thought  of  anything  but  myself.  What 
shall  I  do  ?  What  have  I  got  to  think  of,  af 
ter  this  ?  what  good  have  I  done  ?  Why,  Mr. 
Coit,  what  have  I  been  doing  all  my  life  ?  " 

These  questions  she  asked  as  if  standing  in 
judgment  before  herself ;  her  gaze  introverted, 
her  lips  pale,  her  fingers  working  nervously 
in  and  out  together. 

"  If  I  could  only  think  whether  I  had  ever 
consoled  anybody,  even  by  word  or  look,  but 
such  things  never  occurred  to  me.  It  was, 
what  shall  I  wear  ?  Which  way  shall  I  go  ? 
The  soul,  the  soul !  why  I  don't  know  as  I 
ever  cared  whether  I  had  a  soul.  God  ?  why, 
He  never  entered  my  thoughts.  I  have  only 
lived  for  dancing  and  eating,  and  visiting  and 
fashion,  and  now  my  soul  is  buried  up  under 
all  this  rubbish." 


226  THE   MTT.L   AGENT. 


wMy  dear  madam,"  said  Gnilford,  quickly, 
M  you  could  never  see  your  soul  in  the  state  it 
is  if  God's  spirit  had  not  moved  the  rubbish. 
He  is  letting  the  light  in ;  He  is  giving  you 
a  chance  to  clear  away  the  earthly  matter  that 
has  weighed  down  your  better  nature.  Do 
not  despair ;  Christ  is  nearer  than  you  think." 

K  But  the  past,  the  past !  how  trifling !  how 
miserable !  how  utterly  worthless !  oh,  if  I 
could  only  forget  the  past." 

"You  must  forget  the  past,"  said  Guilford, 
gently,  "  you  need  have  thought  and  care  only 
for  the  future,  now.  O,  madam  !  the  salva 
tion  of  an  immortal  soul,  the  change  from  na 
ture's  darkness  to  God's  marvellous  light,  is  a 
matter  so  mighty,  so  all  engrossing,  that  the 
whole  heart,  mind  and  spirit  should  be  con 
centrated  upon  it  to  the  exclusion  of  every 
thing  else." 

"Yes,  I  do  feel  it,  but  even  if  heaven 
should  be  merciful  to  me,  think  how  few  days 
I  shall  give  to  God,  what  a  low  seat  I  shall 
take  hi  heaven,  and  it  might  have  been  so  dif 
ferent." 


GRANDE   THE   DOUBTER.  227 

M  That  is  the  last  thing  to  ponder  on  now. 
A  man  rescued  from  a  burning  or  a  sinking 
ship  does  not  murmur  that  he  is  not  placed 
in  the  cabin  of  the  vessel  that  gives  him  shel 
ter  and  safety.  That  he  is  out  of  danger  is 
his  first  consideration,  as  it  should  be  yours. 
What  if  you  are  but  an  infant  in  holiness  when 
you  enter  heaven  ?  there  is  all  eternity  to  grow 
in." 

The  thought  seemed  to  give  her  comfort, 
and  Guilford  remained  talking  with  her  until 
he  feared  that  she  had  already  exhausted  her 
strength.  But  as  her  hopes  rose,  her  vigor 
seemed  to  grow  with  them.  This  new  food 
was  very  sweet,  refreshing,  invigorating.  He 
told  her  of  Hager,  for  whom  she  professed  the 
deepest  sympathy. 

''  Go  and  get  her  some  of  the  choicest  flow 
ers,"  she  said,  as  he  was  taking  his  leave  ; 
"  and  tell  her  to  pray  for  me,"  she  added,  al 
most  in  a  whisper.  He  passed  through  the 
sitting-room.  Mary  sat  reading.  She  arose 
as  he  walked  by.  An  impulse  came  over  him 


228  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

and  he  could  not  restrain  it.  He  held  out  his 
hand  and  she  gave  him  hers ;  he  said,  "  do  not 
wait ;  offer  him  the  fulness  and  beauty  of  your 
youth." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  in  seeming  dis 
pleasure,  and  gave  him  a  haughty  glance,  but 
to  do  this  she  was  obliged  to  hold  back  the 
crowding  tears,  and  he  knew  it. 

On  his  way  to  the  conservatory,  his  prayers 
were  most  fervent  for  this  interesting 
household.  The  warm,  sweet  breath  of  the 
flowers  greeted  him  as  he  entered  under  the 
tropical  vines  and  the  bright  fruited  orange- 
trees.  There  was  a  sound  of  voices  afar  down 
the  vista  of  green  and  crimson  and  gold.  It 
was  Austin  Grande,  talking  with  the  old  gar 
dener,  a  man  of  good  appearance,  and  who  had 
been  in  Clifton  Locks  but  a  few  weeks.  Slow 
ly  moving  onward,  Guilford  saw  a  leathern- 
covered  Bible  with  iron  clasps,  lying  upon 
one  of  the  flower-stands,  and  beside  it  a  pair 
of  steel-bowed  spectacles.  He  opened  the 
volume ;  it  had  evidently  been  long  and 


GRANDE   THE    DOUBTER.  229 


thoroughly  handled,  constantly  and  attentive 
ly  read.  Still  holding  it  in  his  hand,  he  saun 
tered  along,  his  eyes  riveted  by  this  pas 
sage  : 

"  There  are,  it  may  be,  so  many  kinds  of 
voices  in  the  world,  and  none  of  them  is 
without  signification." 

The  words  seemed  to  take  on  a  new  mean 
ing  to  him.  "  Some,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  have  even  been  impressed  by  the  voices  of 
these  little  flowers,  for  they  have  a  language 
in  which  to  praise  God." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  GARDENER'S  STORY. 

'HOSE  is  this?"  he  asked,  holding  up 
the  volume  as  he  drew  near  Austin 
and  the  gardener. 

"If  you  please,  its  mine,  sir,"  said  the  lat 
ter,  with  a  strong  English  accent. 

"  Perhaps  we  are  brothers,  then,"  said  Guil- 
ford,  "  for  if  I  mistake  not,  none  but  a  Chris 
tian  would  give  such  a  book  such  usage. 

"  I  humbly  trust  I  am,"  said  the  man. 

"  He  has  been  telling  me  something  about 
his  life,"  interposed  Austin,  willing  to  change 
the  conversation.  "It  seems  he  was  once  a 
miner,  in  England." 

"Yes,  sir,  a  downright,  hard  chap,  I  were, 
too  ;  but  God,  He  had  mercy  on  even  such  a 
one  as  I.  I  were  brought  up  a  gardener,  sir, 
but  there  were  a  good  chance  to  earn  better 
wages,  so  I  took  to  the  mines." 


THE    GARr.EXEll's    STORY.  231 


"And  how  long  since  you've  been  a  Chris 
tian,  my  friend." 

"  O  !  sir  " — the  man  seemed  struck  with  « 
sudden  anguish — "  that's  ever  sense  I  lost  my 
wife  and  my  baby  to  onct,  sir."  He  shook  his 
head,  and  his  strongly  curved  lips  trembled. 

"Ah  !  And  would  it  trouble  you  to  tell  us 
about  it?"  asked  Guilford,  anxious  to  use 
every  available  means  that  might  impress 
Austin. 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  know,  as  it  would,"  re 
sponded  the  gardener,  as  the  three  seated  them 
selves.  "  I  never  had  much  training  when  I 
were  a  youngster,  and  I  s'pose  I  was  specially 
a  hard  case.  I  can't  remember  anytime,  what- 
somever,  that  I  ever  heered  of  any  prayer,  or 
God,  or  the  Bible.  My  father  was  head 
gardener  on  an  estate  in  Dorsetshire,  and  I 
were  with  him,  till  I  had  the  chance  I  spoke 
to  you  of.  One  day  when  I'd  got  along  some 
where  about  twenty-four  or  five,  I  says  to  my 
self,  '  I'm  not  going  to  have  any  of  the  women 
here,-  for  a  wife,'  so  off  I  started  for  Tipton,  a 


232  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


town  ten  miles  off.  My  mother  had  a  cousin 
in  Tipton,  who  was  what  she  called  '  dreadful 
pious,'  that  is  she  went  to  meeting  three  times 
in  a  Sunday,  and  thought  powerful  of  her 
minister;  that  was  where  I  went;  marched 
into  the  house  like  one  of  the  family,  and  there 
became  acquainted  with  Barbara. 

"  She  were  a  pretty  lass,  and  I  soon  see 
she  was  pious,  too ;  so  I  used  to  pretend  to 
read  the  Bible,  and  I'd  go  down  on  my  knees 
at  prayers,  so  that  after  a  while  I  was  pretty 
well  off  in  that  quarter. 

"Well,  you  see,  I  still  passed  off  for  a  gar 
dener,  but  it  kind  o'  went  agen  my  heart, 
when  she  put  her  hand  in  mine,  so  gentle-like, 
and  said  she'd  be  mine,  to  think  I'd  deceived 
her  so.  Heaven  forgive  me  !  The  girl  loved 
me  more  than  father  or  mother.  I  was  n't 
.worth  one  of  her  thoughts.  She  was  a  deli 
cate,  purty  little  thing,  with  dancing  blue 
eyes,  and  a  slow  kind  of  smile,  that  someway 
went  directly  to  the  heart.  And  you  see, 
I  loved  her  that  much,  I  didn't  dare  te  tell 


THE   GAKDEXER'iS   STORY.  233 


her  for  the  life  of  me,  how  I'd  deceived  her, 
till  she  was  almost  home. 

'^Hien  I  said  to  her,  says  I,  '  I  didn't  tell 
you  the  truth  about  my  business.' 

"With  that  she  looked  up  so — the  smile 
trying  to  come,  but  it  couldn't — that  it  choked 
me. 

"'Barbara,'  says  I,  'I  ain't  a  gardener 
now,  though  I  have  been  one ;  I'm  a  miner,  and 
it's  coarse,  ugly  work,  and  you  ain't  fit  to  be 
my  wife,  I  know.  But  I — I  loved  ye,  Bar 
bara,'  and  saying  that,  I  couldn't  stand  the 
look  in  her  eyes ;  I  had  to  turn  away. 

"'O  I  Jack,  how  could  ye?  Maybe  I 
would'nt  care  what  the  work  was,'  she  said, 
'Xt  oh  !  I  do  mind  the  deceiving  ! '  and  she 
began  to  cry. 

"  Well,  instead  of  saying  I  was  sorry,  as  I 
ought,  or  that  I'd  try  to  make  it  up  by  my 
good  behavior ;  and  feeling  mad  with  m}rsclf 
aud  mad  at  her  tears,  I  jest  set  sullen  till  she 
come  to.  Then  she  laid  her  little  hand  on 
my  arm,  and  she  says, 


234  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

" '  Jack,  have  you  deceived  me  about  being 
a  Christian,  too?  Have  I  trusted  ye  all  this 
while  to  be  disappointed  in  that?' 

"I  jest  shook  her  hand  off,  like  a  brute,  and 
says  I, 

w  It's  none  of  your  business  what  I  am.  If 
you've  a  mind  to  believe  me  pious,  why  do 
so ;  but  hark  ye,  I'm  none  of  your  canting 
sort. 

"With  that  she  fetched  a  great  sob,  and  that 
made  my  temper  rise.  First  I  could  feel  it 
heating  me  all  through  here  in  the  breast, 
and  then  it  came  to  my  throat,  and  worked 
out  of  my  mouth,  and  I  began  my  first  mar 
ried  day  with  words  that  I've  wished  since 
had  choked  me.  I  was  always  famous  for  my 
ugly  temper.  There  wasn't  a  man  among  the 
miners* that  didn't  fear  me,  and  I  didn't  care 
showing  off  on  them;  but  it  never'd  came 
to  my  mind  that  I'd  talk  that  way  to  poor  lit 
tle  Barbara.  After  I'd  got  through  she  was 
dreadful  still,  and  her  face  was  so  white  and 
sorrowful  I  could  have  bit  myself  for  having 


THE  GARDENER'S  STORY.  235 

said  an  unkind  word,  but  I  could  not  con 
fess. 

"  Well,  we  got  home  in  the  dusky,  bare 
place  near  the  mines,  and  I  took  Barbara, 
poor  thing,  into  my  mother's  cottage. 

"  yrevious  to  that  I'd  writ  my  mother  to  re 
ceive  her  new  child  kindly,  and  so  she  tried 
to,  but  I  could  see«she  didn't  take  to  her  from 
the  minnit  she  set  eyes  on  her.  Mother  never 
was  pleased  with  anybody  that  wasn't  strong. 
She  was  a  great  worker  herself,  and  she'd 
often  flung  out  about  her  cousin  (whom  she 
hadn't  seen  for  twenty  years)  because  she 
married  a  city  man  and  set  herself  down  to 

KVlother  told  Barbara  all  about  my  temper, 
too,  and  I  do  believe  that  remorse  made  me 
uglier  than  ever  at  times.  She  tried  to  be 
happy — poor  Barbara — tried  her  very  best,  but 
I  could  see  that  she  hadn't  confidence  in  me  any 
more,  and  it  was  kind  o'  wearing  her  out,  like. 
Two  or  three  times  I  went  home  in  a  tearing 
passion,  but  one  night  I  believe  I  was  crazy 


236  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


with  my  temper.  I  dou't  like  to  think  of  it. 
I  wasn't  satisfied  with  common  oaths,  but 
took  whatever  I  heard  or  knew  of 
turned  it  over  in  every  possible  way, 
could  use  good  and  sacred  words  as  vi  as 
possible.  The  poor  girl  fainted  away,  and 
not  long  after  there  was  a  little  child  in  my 
arms  and  I  was  crying  ov£r  it. 

"  Well,  sir,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  minnit 
I  felt  the  touch  of  them  little  fingers,  a  change 
came  over  me,  and  I  was  another  man.  It 
seemed  so  then  and  long  after.  I  tried  to 
curb  my  passion,  tried  to  think  always  of  my 
little  angel,  tried  to  behave  better  to  my  p 
wife." 

The  man  paused  a  moment  and  toyed 
a  delicate  passion-flower,  standing  near, 
presently  he  began  again. 

"Well,  perhaps  I'll  never '  see  heaven ;  I 
don't  know.  I  used  to  feel  so  a  great  deal, 
and  when  I've  been  wretched  and  lonely,  before 
I  came  from  England,  I'd  go  to  a  great  green 
hillock  near  the  mines,  and  look  up,  up,  try- 


THE  GARDENER'S  STORY.  237 

ing  to  find  a  way  among  the  stars,  trying  to 
think  how  I  should  feel  if  an  angel  walked 
down  it,  down  to  me,  poor  miserable  man  I 
and  so  I  get  thinking  of  my  baby.  She's  al 
ways  an  angel  to  me.  It  was  so  curious  to 
think  that  I,  great  rude  miner,  with  stained 
hands  and  blackened  face,  should  be  the  father 
of  anything  so  white  and  handsome.  O  ! 
if  you  could  have  seen  the  eyes,  so  large,  so 
blue  !  that  always  seemed  a  talking  to  me, 
and  gave  me  a  clean  feeling  to  know  they 
were  looking  at  me.  And  then  the  curls  !  I 
used  to  wonder  how  Barbara  dared  to  brush 
and  turn  them  so ;  I  wouldn't  a'  dared  hard 
ly  to  touch  one.  It  seemed  as  if  it  would 
melt  away  from  my  fingers.  Even  my  old 
mother  loved  that  child,  and  if  I  ever  came 
home  out  o'  sorts,  she'd  just  say,  '  baby  wants 
to  see  you,'  and  that  would  calm  me,  like. 

"Well,  one  day,  a  meddlesome  fellow,  Bill 
Warner,  and  I  got  into  a  quarrel  about  a  blast, 
and  we  both  had  backers.  It  wouldn't  do  for 
us  to  fight  it  out  there,  so  we  agreed  to  settle 


238  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

it  that  night,  and  after  work  took  a  drink  on 
it.  I  think  they  put  something  in  that  drink, 
for  I  kept  boiling  up  all  the  way  home,  and  I 
felt  I  should  vent  my  spite  on  somebody  be 
fore  the  time  for  the  quarrel  came.  True 
enough,  I'd  no  sooner  set  my  foot  on  the  door- 
sill,  than  all  the  fiends  in  me  gave  a  great 
bound,  and  at  it  I  went.  I  cursed  Bill  War 
ner,  and  still  talking  with  oaths,  I — well,  I 
don't  like  to  tell  that  part.  She  always  said 
she  fell  against  it — the  open  sheath  knife  in 
my  hand — she  said  her  foot  stumbled.  Well, 
no  matter,  it  wasn't  that  that  killed  her.  The 
doctor  said  it  was  only  a  small  flesh  wound, 
it  would  heal  soon.  He  bound  it  up,  and 
things  went  on,  I  was  going  to  say,  as  usual, 
but  they  didn't.  Before  I  left  in  the  morning 
— I'd  backed  out  of  the  fight,  you  see,  for  her 
sake — I  saw  Barbara  try  ing  to  wake  the  baby. 
She  was  weak,  and  lying  down0  and  couldn't 
seem  to  manage  it,  so  I  went  to  lift  it — don't 
mind  me,  gentlemen,  I  never  speak  of  that 
but  I  cry  like  a  child.  It  almost  killed  me, 


THE  GARDENER'S  STORY.  239 

sir ;  it  did  kill  her.  Tbat  dear  little  angel  was 
dead.  It  never  opened  them  beautiful  eyes 
again.  O !  I  thought  I  should  have  gone 
stark  mad,  standing  there  holding  it,  frozen, 
like,  my  eyes  glued  on  it,  and  Barbara  crying 
out  very  fast,  'what  is  it?  what  is  the  mat 
ter?' 

"  O,  dear  !  I  laid  it  in  her  arms  ;  what  else 
could  I  do  ?  I  laid  the  little  dead  thing  right 
in  her  arms.  She  didn't  speak  a  word,  only 
looked  first  at  the  baby,  then  at  me,  shiver 
ing  as  if  she  held  it  like  cold  ice  against  her 
heart. 

" Maybe  'tisn't  gone,  Barbara,'!  kept  say 
ing,  but  she  never  spoke,  only  her  eyes  grew 
wilder  and  her  cheek  whiter,  and  my  mother 
whispered,  'go  for  the  doctor,  Jaok,  or  she'll 
die  too.  I  don't  think  I  felt  anything  the 
whole  way.  I  was  stunned.  I  couldn't  even 
speak  to  him,  but  he  saw  there  was  something 
worse  than  usual  on  hand,  and  he  jumped  on 
his  horse.  But  I  got  there  first — yes,  fast  as 
he  went,  I  was  there  before  him.  I've  heard 


240  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

of  flying  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth  ;  I 
believe  if  I'd  kept  on,  I  should  have  got 
there. 

w  Barbara,  poor  white  thing  !  still  held  the 
baby — still  shook  like  an  ague  ;  and  there  were 
great  black  hollows  under  her  eyes. 

'  Why !  how's  this  ? '  asked  the  doctor. 
'  Ah  !  I  see — shock  last  night ;  the  baby  nurs 
ed,  didn't  it?  Yes;  disordered  the  stomach; 
had  a  fit — died.' 

w  All  this  time  I  sat  in  the  corner,  cursing 
myself,  tearing  my  hair,  and  pinching  my 
body,  till  I  almost  pulled  the  flesh  off.  There 
was  a  rushing  sound  in  my  ears,  and  I  was  all 
in  a  seethe  just  as  I've  seen  the  earth  look 
when  it  was  going  to  break  after  a  blast ;  the 
cracks  running  in  every  direction,  and  the 
ground  pricking  out  and  quivering.  O  !  I 
didn't  know  which  way  to  turn.  I'd  felt 
thankful  to  see  some  one  standing  before  me 
with  a  loaded  gun  ;  I  wanted  to  curse  God  and 
die! 

"  Says  the  doctor,  'you'd  better  come  here, 


THE  GABDENER'S  STORY.  241 

now,  young  man ; '  and  I  got  to  the  bedside,  I 
don't  know  how.  She  was  looking  straight 
at  me,  and  the  old,  slow  smile,  was  coining 
into  her  face. 

' '  Let  me  take  her,  Barbara,'  I  said,  for  I 
felt  somehow  as  it  was  awful  for  her  to  be 
hugging  the  dead  baby. 

"  She  only  shook  her  head,  and  gave  me 
one  of  her  sweet  looks,  then  turning  her  eyes 
up,  once,  as  if  she  saw  something,  and  cud 
dling  the  baby  up  closer,  she — she — died. 
Yes,  sir,  and  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me  for 
showing  off  this  way.  I  ain't  a  crying  man  ; 
I  never  shed  a  tear  as  I  know  of,  before  that 
tune,  and  hardly  since.  But  when  I  saw 
them  both — baby  and  my  poor  Barbara,  that  I 
had  killed — yes,  both  of  them — language  ain't 
strong  enough  to  tell  you  my  feelin's.  O  !  no, 
I  can't  seem  to  believe  they  ever  belonged  to 
me  ;  and  though  they  was  within  hand's  touch 
of  me,  I  could  seem  to  see  a  great  river  roll 
ing  between  us. 

"But  I  vowed  a  vow  there,  gentlenien,  that 
may  God  help  me  keep.  I  vowed  over  them, 


242  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


and  I  believe  they  knew'  it,  somewhere,  that 
I'd  try  to  be  pious,  as  she  was,  and  I'd  never, 
so  long  as  I  held  the  memory  of  that  little 
face,  no,  never  get  ugly  again,  and  so  far,  I 
haven't  broke  it.  Sometimes  it  seems  as  if 
all  the  evil  spirits  in  the  world  get  at  me,  to 
tempt  my  ugly  out  of  me ;  but  there's  one 
little  white  face,  with  blue  eyes,  and  such 
light,  soft,  silky  curls,  jist  there  front  of  me  ; 
I  seem  to  see  it,  sir;  that  has  more  power 
than  all  them  fiends.  And  when  I'm  sore 
pressed,  and  the  temper  threatens  to  git  the 
upper  hand  of  me,  I  takes  my  Bible,  that  old 
Bible  there,  that  a  pious  old  man  give  me, 
fifteen  year  ago,  and  I  kneels  down  and  prays. 
I  don't  know  what  kind  o'  praying  it  is.  I 
expect  there  wouldn't  anybody  understand  it 
but  God ;  and  I  wouldn't  think  He  did,  if  I 
didn't  have  a  light  feel  after  it,  that  doesn't 
come  only  to  folks  as  is  pious.  Well,  sir, 
I'm  getting  better  of  my  ugly.  Them  little 
fingers  is  leading  the  rough  old  minor  up  to 
the  mouth  of  that  great  shaft,  and  I  hope  soon 
to  jump  out  among  the  stars,  and  ha'  done 


THE  GARDENER'S  STORY.  243 


with  the  dark  pit  o'  life.  And  then  I'll  see 
my  baby,  sir ;  my  baby,  if  she  is  an  angel. 
I'll  see  my  wife,  and  she'll  give  me  that  good 
old  smile ;  I  know  she  will.  And  they  two 
wont  be  the  only  ones  that'll  say  f  well  done  ! ' 
when  I  enter  into  them  joys  that  no  ears  has 
heard  tell  of,  and  no  eyes  has  seen." 

The  gardener  paused.  The  quivering  of 
his  lip,  the  starting  of  the  big  tear  had  ceased, 
and  his  face  took  on  a  quiet  peace  and  humil 
ity.  Austin  had  raised  his  eyes  but  seldom 
during  the  recital  of  the  humble  experience, 
and  when  he  did  so,  at  last,  it  was  evident 
that  he  had  been  greatly  affected. 

"  You  all  tell  the  same  story,"  he  said,  after 
Guilford  had  spoken  with  the  gardener,  and 
they  were  leaving  the  conservatory. 

"  Yes,  the  story  of  the  cross,"  said  Guilford, 
smiling. 

"It's  all  Greek  to  me,"  was  the  gloomy 
reply. 

"And  will  be,  till  you  humble  yourself  to 
learn  it,"  said  Guilford. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A     GREAT     REFORMATION. 

(ft  HE  Colonel  was  just  coming  into  the 
VL^yard.  Merric  sat  on  a  beautiful  gray 
pony  behind  him. 

"  You'll  both  stop  to  dinner,  surely,"  he  said. 

w  No,  sir,  I  thank  you,"  replied  the  agent. 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Merric,  hearti 
ly,  his  grasp  still  within  that  of  Guilford's. 

"I  would,  but— " 

"  It  is  one  of  your  -fixed  principles  never  to 
dine  out  Sundays,  I  suppose,"  said  Austin. 

"It  is." 

"  Very  well ;  carry  my  regards  to  little  Ha- 
ger ;  tell  her  I  picked  most  of  the  flowers," 
and  Austin  Grande  placed  the  beautiful  bunch 
in  Guilford's  care,  and  stepped  back  on  the 
piazza. 

"I  will  do  so,"  said  Guilford,  quietly,  and 


A  GREAT   REFORMATION.  245 


walked  away,  leaving  Austin  standing  beside 
the  Colonel.  The  young  man  entered  the 
house  again  with  Memo,  dissatisfied  and  un 
easy.  He  felt  that  he  had  held  back  merely 
to  show  his  opposition  to  his  friend.  There 
was  a  singular  combination  of  opposite  ele 
ments  warring  in  his  mind,  just  now  :  admira 
tion  of  Guilford  Coit's  character,  a  dislike 
amounting  almost  to  hatred  of  the  religion  he 
professed,  notwithstanding  he  felt  its  holiness 
and  saw  its  justice.  In  his  soul  he  said, 
though  he  knew  it  not,  "  I  will  not  have  this 
man,  Christ  Jesus,  to  rule  in  my  heart." 

The  Colonel  joined  his  wife ;  the  three 
young  people  sat  together.  Naturally,  Guil 
ford  become  the  theme  of  conversation. 

"  He  is  too  perfect,"  said  Miss  Mary,  with 
a  curl  of  the  lip.  She  was  looking  through 
some  sacred  songs  to  find  one  Austin  had  ask 
ed  her  to  sing. 

"  I'm  sure  there's  nothing  Puritanical  about 
him,"  responded  Merric.  "  When  I  go  into 
the  office  I  find  him  first  rate  company,  I  can 


246  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

tell  you.  He's  grand  at  telling  stories,  and 
the  best  of  it  is,  he  gets  'em  off  so  dryly,  and 
still  he  never  swears,  or  says  the  least  thing  in 
an  ungentlemanly  manner.  Now  Hunt  was  ex 
actly  his  opposite.  Hunt  was  always  talking 
about  spreeiug  it,  and  even  in  the  presence  of 
ladies  he  was  not  careful  about  his  language. 
Well,  poor  fellow,  there  he  is  in  prison,  at 
last." 

"  In  prison  !  "  ejaculated  his  sister. 

"Yes,  father  and  I  have  learned  to-day  that 
he  was  arrested  for  another  robbery,  and  now 
this  will  be  proved  upon  him,  too." 

w  Then  father  will  get  his  money  again,  and 
he  made  me  a  promise  once  that  if  ever  he 
did  he  would  give  me  half.  A  thousand  dol 
lars,  only  think  !  I  shall  have  five  hundred. 
Will  father  prosecute  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  will,"  replied  the  young  man ; 
w  the  loss  will  probably  fall  on  Hunt's  father, 
who  is  a  man  of  property.  He  is  very  honest, 
they  say,  and  declares  no  one  shall  lose  by  his 
son  if  it  beggars  him.  It  will  kill  him  though ; 


A  GREAT  REFORMATION.  247 


what  a  pity  for  a  good  father  to  have  such  a 
son.  But  what  will  you  do  with  your  five 
hundred,  sis?" 

"  Give  it  to  Mr.  Coit  to  build  a  meeting 
house,"  laughingly  responded  Mary. 

"  Take  care,  sis,  many  a  true  word  spoken 
in  jest,  you  know." 

"  Perhaps  Miss  Leffingwell  will  found  an 
asylum  for  monomaniacs,"  said  Austin,  a 
slight  curl  of  the  lip  betraying  the  half  sneer. 

Merric  looked  up,  his  face  aglow  with  a 
generous  indignation  :  K I  wish  I  was  just  such 
a  monomaniac  as  that  man  is,"  he  said,  the 
quick  flush  springing  to  his  face.  w  I  be 
lieve  he's  none  of  your  half-way  Christians, 
but  good  all  through.  I've  seen  a  great  many 
professors  of  religion,  and  some  of  them  in 
earnest,  too,  but  it  seemed  an  effort  to  them 
to  keep  right.  Now  it  isn't  so  with  Guilford 
Coit.  He's  made  up  his  mind,  that  man  has, 
that  his  religion  shall  govern  him,  not  he  his 
religion.  And  if  ever  I  make  up  my  mind  to 
be  a  Christian,  I  hope  I  shall  be  one  after  his 


248  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

pattern.  He's  one  of  the  happiest  fellows  I 
ever  knew.  You  always  hear  him  singing  or 
humming,  and  I  should  just  like  to  know 
what  other  man  can  smile  as  he  does  ?  Why, 
he  seems  to  take  you  right  into  his  heart." 

"Bravo  !  well  done,  Merric,  quite  eloquent, 
upon  my  word  !  who's  the  paragon  ?  " 

Merric  rallied  after  a  momentary  confusion. 
His  father's  handsome,  hearty,  wondering  face 
confronted  him,  as  he  turned. 

"  I  needn't  have  asked  the  question,  how 
ever,"  said  the  Colonel ;  K  of  course,  there  is 
but  one  perfect  man  in  all  Clifton  Locks, 
every  body  knows  that,  and  he  takes  care  that 
they  shall." 

"Father,  that  is  ungenerous,"  said  Merric, 
his  eyes  kindling  again.  "I beg  your  pardon, 
but  I  must  protest  against  your  last  remark. 
Mr.  Coit  is  unusually  modest  and  unpretend 
ing.  He  never  forces  his  opinions  upon  any 
one:" 

"Not  in  words,  I  grant  you,  but  the  fellow 
seems  determined  to  make  you  feel  in  some 


A   GREAT   REFORMATION.  249 

way,  if  it's  only  by  a  look  that  he  is  better  than 
you  are,"  replied  the  Colonel,  almost  angrily. 
"  He  might  be  just  as  honest,  capable,  and  all 
that  he  is,  without  making  such  a  fuss  about 
it.  There's  your  mother  worried  almost  into 
fits  by  hun  ;  mourning  her  wickedness,  poor 
woman !  What  has  she  ever  done  that  she 
need  be  in  fear  of  a  future  ;  a  harmless  unof 
fending  creature  like  her  ?  If  I  had  as  few  sins 
on  my  soul  as  she  has,  death  wouldn't  look 
very  terrible  to  me." 

All  this  time  Mary  sat  at  the  piano,  aimless 
ly  turning  over  the  leaves  of  her  music,  but 
listening  eagerly  to  every  word.  Young  as 
she  was,  and  inexperienced  in  the  ways  of  the 
world,  she  was  yet  conscious  that  her  mother's 
whole  life  had  been  one  of  frivolity  and  vani 
ty.  She  knew  in  her  soul  that  there  was  a 
difference,  a  higher  life  to  be  lived  than  the 
standard  to  which  her  youthful  mind  had  been 
directed,  and  she  awaited  her  brother's  reply 
with  interest. 

"  I  think  if  we  should  judge  ourself  by  the 


250  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


Bible-standard,"  said  Merric,  "  the  most  harm 
less  and  innocent  seeming  among  us  would 
need  repentance." 

"And  what  man  is  there  but  repents  ?"  ask 
ed  Austin. 

"  Ah !  you  and  I  need  a  different  sort  of 
penitence  from  the  merely  sentimental,"  said 
Merric,  as,  much  agitated  and  with  a  pale 
face,  he  left  the  room. 

"  I  must  stop  Coit  from  talking  to  that  boy. 
He  holds  him  there  for  hours  together ;  I  sus 
pect  he  wants  to  make  him  as  strait-laced  a 
Puritan  as  he  is  himself,"  said  the  Colonel 
angrily.  "  I  must  stop  it  and  I  will." 

Meantime  Sarah  Church,  in  her  humble  lit 
tle  home,  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  her  long  and 
earnest  devotion  to  her  father.  On  this  same 
Sunday  afternoon  she  sat  with  him  on  the 
porch  of  their  little  house.  Sarah  had  grown 
thoughtful  in  her  content,  but  her  dark  eyes 
beamed  with  an  inward  pleasure,  a  peace 
above  all  others,  that  had  lately  taken  up  its 
abode  in  her  heart.  Everywhere  about  them 


A   GREAT   REFORMATION.  251 


seemed  thrift  and  content.  The  orchard  had 
been  carefully  pruned  and  dug  about,  long 
neglected  fences  mended,  bushes  cut  and 
trimmed,  flowers  cleared  of  weeds,  and  the 
whole  place  seemed  rejuvenated.  Even  the 
gate  and  the  door  had  received  a  coat  of  paint, 
and  over  the  latter  a  vine  that  had  laid  trail 
ing  in  every  unseemly  direction  over  wall  and 
window,  was  tastefully  trained  and  fastened, 
so  that  it  made  the  place  like  a  bower.  Bet 
ter  than  all,  her  father  sat  beside  her,  clothed 
in  his  right  mind.  For  weeks  he  had  not 
touched  the  unclean  thing,  and  he  seemed  to 
take  so  much  pleasure  in  the  work  of  renova 
tion,  as  it  progressed  under  his  hands,  that  he 
had  no  inclination  for  the  baser  excitements  to 
which  he  had  become  accustomed.  Sarah, 
like  a  wise  and  judicious  girl  as  she  was,  fol 
lowed  up  all  these  good  results  with  the  most 
pains-taking  care.  She  arose  early  and  put 
everything  in  order,  that  the  house  she  wish 
ed  to  keep  sacred  might  look  pleasant  to  him. 
She  took  the  little  earnings  formerly  devoted 


252  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


to  ornaments,  and  purchased  delicacies  with 
which  to  tempt  his  diseased  appetite.  Hav 
ing  her  father's  turn  of  mind,  she  procured 
works  on  scientific  subjects,  and  read  to  him, 
herself,  after  the  labors  of  the  day  were  over, 
to  save  his  failing  eyesight.  Beautiful  in  her 
care  and  devotion,  she  let  no  opportunity  pass, 
in  which  she  might  show  him  how  tenderly 
she  loved,  and  how  solicitous  she  was  for  him. 
Wrecked  though  he  had  nearly  been,  he  still 
wore  the  remnant  of  his  nobility  bravel}r.  As 
he  sat  there,  the  wind  played  gently  with  his 
thin  white  hair,  and  the  careworn  look  habitu 
al  to  him,  was  softened  by  the  smiling  curves 
of  his  lips. 

Sarah  no  longer  looked  forward  to  the  next 
ball  as  her  only  and  highest  anticipation  of 
pleasure ;  it  was  enough  for  her  that  her 
father  was  restored  to  her  after  six  years  of 
almost  hopeless  dissipation.  She  had  said  to 
him  only  the  night  before,  "father,  why  can 
we  not  make  for  ourselves  a  home  ?  Colonel 
Leffingwell  owns  this  house ;  suppose  he  gives 


A   GREAT   REFORMATION.  253 


us  an  opportunity  to  purchase  it.  With  such 
an  object  before  us,  it  will  be  so  pleasant  to 
labor ! " 

M I  can  never  consent  to  let  you  take  this 
upon  yourself,"  said  her  father ;  "  but  you 
shall  help  me,  or  I  will  help  you." 

Sarah  looked  with  an  inquiring  eye  at  her 
father.  The  smile  deepened  on  his  lip. 

"  I  have  thought  of  an  invention  in  which  I 
am  almost  sure  to  succeed,"  he  said. 

The  bright  glance  faded  out  of  Sarah's  face. 
It  was  his  disappointment  in  an  infringement 
upon  a  patent  right  of  his,  and  for  which  his 
poverty  prevented  him  from  receiving  justice 
by  law,  that  had  broken  him  down.  Who 
can  wonder  that  Sarah  trembled  as  she  looked 
back  with  fears  and  doubts.  He  noticed  her 
downcast  expression. 

I  know  of  what  you  are  thinking,  my  child, 
but  don't  fear  for  me.  After  many  nights  of 
solemn  communion  with  myself  and  my  God, 
I  have  come  to  the  deliberate  conclusion  that 
no  power,  no  temptation,  no  disappointment, 


254  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


shall  ever  lead  me  to  that  poison  again.  I 
have  so  decided,  and  I  believe  God  will  help 
me." 

From  that  moment  Sarah  felt  less  fear,  and 
is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  emotions  of 
her  heart,  made  her  face  so  joyous  on  that 
serene  Sabbath  night?  It  was  pleasant  to 
think  that  as  time  rolled  on  they  might  have 
a  hearth-stone  of  their  own. 

And' what  beautiful  thoughts  are  connected 
with  the  home  hearth-stone.  Though  the 
broad  flags  of  the  old  fashioned  fire-place  are 
not,  though  the  brush,  and  the  cup  of  mixture 
with  which  the  good  wife  was  wont  to  "  red 
up  "  the  fire-place,  are  gone,  perhaps,  forever ; 
yet  is  there  not  an  ideal  hearth-stone,  "sa 
cred  to  the  memory,"  though  departed  from 
our  sight  ?  Can  we  not  all  look  back  to  the 
dear,  lighted  rooms,  where  merry  faces  and 
thoughtful  brows  were  gathered?  The  old 
grandmother  is  there,  knitting  in  hand,  the 
dear  old  saint,  verging  well  on  to  ninety; 
ever  ready  with  child-like  smile  and  word  of 


A    GREAT   REFORMATION.  255 


encouragement.  The  grandfather,  with  knees 
crossed  and  hands  folded,  nods  as  he  talks,  till 
some  burst  of  childish  laughter  sets  his  dim, 
blue  eyes  wide  open  again,  when  he  smiles, 
pats  the  nearest  rogue  upon  the  head,  and 
dozes  again. 

Babes  are  there,  pure  and  loving ;  the  calm- 
eyed  mother  is  there  ;  the  grave  father,  look 
ing  with  inward  eyes  upon  a  long,  long  pano 
rama,  stretching  before  him — the  future  of  all 
those  dear  ones,  as  he  would  have  it.  It  is 
the  old,  yet  ever  new,  romance  of  the  hearth 
stone  ;  the  Mecca  of  the  true  poet's  imagin 
ation  ;  the  well  of  refreshing,  for  the  weary 
man  of  business  ;  the  spot  sacred  to  the  most 
hallowed  loves,  emotions,  and  prophesies  of 
the  heart ;  the  beautiful  garden  in  the  desert : 
the  cluster  of  palms  and  dates  in  the  else  bar 
ren  waste  of  life. 

It  is,  however,  not  only  the  happy  family- 
circle  numbering  its  members  by  the  half 
score,  that  knows  the  blessing  and  beauty  of 
the  hearth-stone.  We  will  take  you  to  a  lowly 


256  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


cottage,  where  the  vine  grows  over  the  wall, 
and  roses  bloom  without  and  within,  over  the 
neat  threshold,  through  the  beautiful  hall,  and 
you  will  find  a  hearth-stone  there,  although 
there  are  but  two  to  dwell  before  it.  They 
are  both  in  middle  age,  and  they  sit  side  by 
side  under  the  clear  light,  whose  jets  proceed 
from  long-drawn  tubes  and  from  dark  avenues 
under  the  earth.  They  sit  together ;  a  book 
half  closed  rests  on  his  knee,  of  which  they 
are  talking.  No  children  have  blessed  their 
union;  still  are  they  happy,  for  they  know 
that  children  are  an  "  heritage  of  the  Lord," 
and  if  he  has  withheld  them,  it  is  for  some 
good  purpose.  So  they  lavish  yet  the  more 
love  upon  each  other,  and  thank  God  that  they 
can  have  a  hearth-stone,  on  which  to  erect  an 
altar,  before  which  to  bow,  and  from  which  to 
dispense  blessings  and  charities  to  the  home 
less  and  the  needy,  even  if  the  sweet  singing 
voices  of  little  children  are  denied  them. 

And  how  happy  Sarah  and  her  father  were, 
of  late,  before  their  little  fire ;  you  can  tell 


A   GREAT   REFORMATION.  257 


who  have  felt  the  hard  smiting  of  the  drunk 
ard's  eurse  against  your  heart,  and  then,  all 
suddenly,  have  known  the  joy  and  peace  of 
his  recovered  love,  when  the  demon  of  strong 
drink  has  been  put  away  forever. 

"  Father,"  said  Sarah,  "  I  will  go  in  and  get 
our  supper,  and  then  if  you  will  spare  me, 
perhaps,  I  had  better  run  down  to  the  tavern 
and  sit  with  Hager  till  dark.  Shall  you  be 
lonesome  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  dear,"  said  her  father. 
She  checked  the  exclamation  of  surprise  that 
arose  to  her  lips.  She  said  not  a  word,  but  a 
dark  dread  came  over  her.  He  was  going  in 
the  very  midst  of  temptation ;  was  he  strong 
enough?  Was  the  old  love  so  crucified,  that 
neither  sense  would  open  to  its  fascinations  ? 
She  would  not  let  him  see  that  she  doubted  or 
feared,  so  she  went  within ;  but  there  was  a 
tumult  of  thought  and  feeling  that  confused 
her.  Perhaps  Guilford  Coit  would  be  there  ; 
if  so,  a  mute  look  would  put  him  on  his 
guard ;  he  would  talk  with,  and  watch  over, 
the  old  man. 


258  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


The  little  table  was  presently  spread.  How 
neat  and  delicate  it  looked !  Because  there 
were  but  two,  Sarah  did  not  follow  that  mis 
taken  policy  of  making  things  only  conven 
ient.  It  would  have  been  as  easy,  perhaps 
easier,  to  let  the  table  remain  against  the  side 
of  the  wall ;  but  would  it  look  as  well?  Sarah 
decided  not,  and  that  nothing  was  worth  hav 
ing  that  was  not  the  occasion  of  some  trouble, 
be  it  ever  so  slight.  It  would  certainly  have 
been  less  expensive  to  use  a  common  dark 
cloth ;  but  Sarah  reasoned  rightly,  when  she 
said,  "why  should  I  let  this  fine  linen,  which 
was  my  mother's,  lay  in  drawers  to  mould  or 
to  yellow,  when  it  might  give  pleasure  by  its 
exquisite  whiteness?"  Therefore  it  was,  that 
the  daintiest  princess  might  have  eaten  at  that 
humble  board.  I  do  not  remember  that  I 
have  described  Sarah  Church.  You  may 
wish  to  know  whether  she  was  regal  in  stature, 
or  fairy-like  ;  whether  her  hair  was  like  gold, 
or  of  deeper  tint  and  shadings ;  but  ]  prefer 
that  you  should  determine  how  she  was  beau- 


A    GREAT    KEFOilMAlION.  259 


tiful,  or  if  sue  was  beautiful  at  all,  in  the  pro 
gress  of  uiy  story.  And  let  me  just  hint, 
here,  that  a  love  of  truth,  a  delicate  regard  for 
the  feelings  of  others,  a  simplicity  of  speech, 
an  inherent  and  noble  modesty,  a  love  for 
God  and  religion,  a  real  regard  for  what  is 
really  virtuous,  these  constitute  a  beauty 
meritorious  and  worthy  of  possession.  The 
sick  bed  will  test  it,  but  it  will  shine  brighter 
there.  Tune,  with  its  itching  fingers,  cannot 
steal  it,  for  it  is  locked  within  a  treasury  that 
never  yet,  with  such  safeguards,  was  robbed ; 
and  it  can  be  improved  hour  by  hour,  moment 
by  moment,  till  it  shall  shine  in  the  full  glory 
of  perfectness. 

Stand  before  your  mirror,  there,  maiden, 
with  the  plain  features,  and  see  if  there  are 
dark  lines  there,  marked  with  discontent. 
Look  closely  within  that  eye,  gentle,  but  per 
haps  neither  dark  nor  brilliant ;  has  no  envy 
darkened  its  softness  ?  Does  harsh  anger  of 
ten  curl  the  lips  to  scornful  shape,  or  thought 
less  and  foolish  words  wreathe  them  in  uii- 


2 GO  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


meaning  smiles?  Does  the  hectic  glow  of 
passions  unrestrained,  mantle  the  cheeks ;  or 
has  sullen  disquietude  stolen  the  gloss  from 
the  locks  of  banded  hair  ?  If  none  of  these 
things  have  taken  place,  never  fear  for  your 
plainness ;  the  soul  will  take  care  that  its 
beauty  shall  not  be  disregarded. 

Supper  over,  and  the  little  room  put  to 
rights  again,  Sarah  and  her  father  set  out,  not 
without  some  misgivings  on  her  part.  That 
Mr.  Church  was  a  fine  looking  old  man  was 
generally  conceded,  even  when  he  was  de 
graded  by  his  habits ;  but  to-night,  spite  of 
her  fears,  Sarah  could  not  help  stealing  now 
and  then  a  glance  of  pride  at  him,  or,  with  a 
childish  ingenuity,  lingering  behind  ostensibly 
to  pick  some  flower,  really  to  see  how  well 
and  straight  and  noble  he  looked ;  and  to 
watch  the  sunlight,  now  fast  travelling  to  the 
west,  glitter  on  his  white  hair. 

"These  are  beautiful,  are  they  not?"  asked 
Sarah,  holding  up  a  sprig  of  wild  jessamine, 
and  another  of  bergamot.  "What  are  they 


A   GREAT   KEFORMATION.  261 


the  emblems  of,  father — you  know  all  about 
the  flowers." 

"Friendship,  my  dear,"  said  her  father, 
pausing  a  moment;  "how  natural  and  eloquent 
the  language  of  the  flowers  is  !  an  f  oratory,'  as 
some  one  has  well  said,  '  that  speaks  in  per 
fumed  silence,  in  which  there  are  tenderness 
and  passion,  and  even  a  buoyancy  of  gay 
mirthfulness,  unknown  to  other  vocabula 
ries.'  " 

"Hager  is  so  fond  of  flowers,  the  dear 
child,"  said  Sarah  compassionately,  w  I'll  make 
her  a  bouquet,  though  I  suppose,  they  keep 
her  lavishly  supplied  from  Colonel  Leffing- 
well's  hot-house.  She  always  seemed  to  me 
like  an  exquisite  little  flower  herself,"  she 
added,  in  a  caressing  voice. 

The  doctor's  carriage  stood  before  the 
tavern,  and  a  little  group  was  gathered  talk 
ing  with  hushed  voices. 

w  Something  has  happened,  I'm  afraid," 
said  Sarah,  as  they  hurried  on ;  "  what  shall 
I  do  if  little  Hager  is  gone,  without  saying  a 
word  to  me  ?  " 


262  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


A  neighbor  met  her  on  the  threshold. 

"We  all  thought  the  last  had  come,"  she 
said,  "  but  the  doctor  thinks  she  is  better, 
now,  and  wont  go  to-night.  As  for  poor 
Tristam,  you  could  hear  him  all  over  the 
house.  They've  just  gone  down  to  the  mead 
ow-lot,  (for  he  ran  off  there  like  a  crazy  man) , 
to  tell  him.  Dear,  dear — how  dreadful  he 
takes  on !  As  for  her,  dear  lamb,"  the 
woman  continued,  "there  she  lay,  and  does 
yet,  patient  as  an  angel.  Mr.  Coit  stays  by 
her,  just  like  a  brother ;  she  can't  bear  him 
out  of  her  sight.  She  jest  nestles  up  to  him, 
and  I  expect  that  makes  her  father  feel  bad, 
for  I  don't  think  he  likes  the  new  agent  any 
too  well,  or  at  least,  he  didn't.  Dear  me, 
don't  I  look  like  a  fright  in  this  old  red 
shawl  ?  but  there  !  says  my  husband,  f  they've 
sent  for  you  up  to  Saint's,'  and  I  almost 
knew  what  that  meant,  so  I  hurried  off 
without  stopping  for  dress,  though  to  be 
sure — " 

"What  did  Hager  say?"  queried  Sarah, 


A   GREAT    REFORMATION.  263 


cutting  her  short  somewhat  unceremoniously. 

"  Say  ?  dear  mercy  !  everything.  But  what 
do  you  think? — she  asked  her  father  if, 
whether  she  died  or  lived,  he  would  let  them 
get  up  a  Sunday  School  in  the  hall,  up  stairs. 
He  promised — 'yes,'  he  said,  'anything,  any 
thing — only  don't  die,  don't  die,  father's  dar 
ling.'  You  ought  to  have  heard  him ;  it  was 
enough  to  melt  a  heart  of  stone.  I  never 
thought  that  great  strong  man  could  have 
took  on  that  way." 

"  Father,  where  will  you  stay,  while  I  go 
upstairs?"  asked  Sarah. 

Her  look  was  so  appealing,  her  manner  so 
conscious,  that  the  old  man's  pride  took  fire. 

"Daughter,  are  you  afraid  to  trust  me, 
now?  "  he  asked,  reproof  in  his  voice. 

"No,  no,"  she  whispered;  "forgive  me.  I 
will  trust  you,  fully,  wholly." 

She  left  him,  commending  him,  in  her  heart 
to  God,  and  went  up  to  Hager's  room.  I  said 
up — it  was  but  four  or  five  steps  from  the 
lower  hall  into  the  bedroom,  her  mother  had 


264  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


occupied  before.  Sarah  never  needed  to  ask 
if  her  presence  was  welcome,  so  she  moved  in 
softly  and  saw  a  picture. 

The  upper  part  of  the  large  bed,  all  white 
drapery,  was  lustred  by  the  setting  sun.  It 
was  no  ordinary  red  that  bathed  pillow  and 
folded  hands  and  spiritual  face,  but  a  royal 
crimson  of  deepest  splendor  tinged  with  the 
richest  bronzing  of  gold.  Clear  hues  of  car 
mine  edged  with  a  faint  lustre,  laid  on  the 
wall  at  the  bed's  head,  and  some  distant  re 
flection  of  shimmering  water  trembled  in  sil 
very,  wavy  lines  between.  For  the  moment 
it  seemed  an  almost  supernatural  glory,  not 
of  earth,  but  of  heaven,  and  Sarah  stood  trans 
fixed  with  awe  and  admiration. 

Hulda  Saint  was  walking  softly  back  and 
forth  at  some  distance  from  the  bedside,  striv 
ing  for  that  composure,  that  the  fear  of  the 
shadow  of  death  had  so  ruthlessly  broken  in 
upon ;  the  doctor  was  placing  a  written  pre 
scription  within  the  hands  of  the  nurse.  Guil- 
ford  Coit,  half  in  that  wondrous  light  that 


A   GREAT  EEFOEMATIO?r.  265 


faded  as  mists  fade  into  clear  atmosphere,  sat 
by  the  head  of  the  bed,  reading  in  a  very 
low  and  very  soft  voice,  some  portions  of  the 
Psalms. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Hager,  as  she  saw  him  pre 
paring  to  leave,  and  her  voice  was  clear  and 
sweet  as  that  of  a  child,  "  I  want  you  to  come 
here  a  moment." 

The  physician  moved  around  on  the  other 
side. 

"Doctor,  do  you  think  I  can  possibly  live  a 
week?"  she  asked,  smiling. 

"  You  may  live,  several,"  he  answered. 

"  If  I  take  any  particular  care,  or  nourish 
ment  ;  will  that  prolong  my  life  ?  "  she  asked 
again,  anxiously. 

"Your  life  depends  upon  nothing  of  that 
kind,"  he  replied  ;  "  the  only  thing  is  to  keep 
as  free  from  excitement  as  possible." 

"  Doctor,  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  and 
you  must  say  yes,"  she  added  earnestly.  "  If 
I  can't  live,  and  you  have  said  I  can't,  will 
you  let  them  take  me  down  to  the  river  ?  I 
want  to  be  baptized." 


266  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"  No,"  said  the  doctor,  shortly,  "  that  would 
be  little  less  than  suicide." 

She  answered  cheerfully,  though  her  lips 
quivered,  w  I  am  sure  that  Christ  would  take 
care  of  me.  He  is  here,  something  good  and 
pure,  strong  and  holy,  is  here  ;  it  makes  me 
feel  as  if  His  arms  were  upholding  me.  And 
He  will  take  care  of  me  if  I  go  down  into 
the  water." 

"  But  what  difference  will  it  make,  child?" 

"  Doctor,  I  want  all  the  world  to  see,"  she 
said  with  a  lovely  smile  ;  w  I  want  all  Clifton 
Locks  to  know  that  I  publicly  profess  Christ. 
The  mill  girls  will  all  be  there — those  who 
have  so  often  joined  me  in  the  dance,  will  be 
there.  I  love  them  all.  I  want  them  to  see 
that  there  is  no  gloom  in  religion.  It's  not 
dark,  this  dying ;  why,  doctor,  I  feel  just  as 
if  there  was  a  great  palace,  filled  with  music, 
just  before,  a  glorious  palace,  whose  doors  are 
opening  for  me.  Doctor,  you  must  say,  yes." 

"  I  cannot  say  yes  ;  such  excitement  as  that 
would  be  death." 


A   GREAT  REFORMATION.  267 


"  Please  call  Mr.  Coit,"  she  said  childishly. 
He  came. 

"Do  you  say,  too,  that  I  must  not  go  into 
the  water?"  she  asked,  laying  her  little  palm 
in  his. 

"  Not  yet,  darling ;  it's  not  best  now,"  he 
said  in  his  grave  way. 

w  But  I  dreamed,  I  went  down,  and  two 
bright  angels  came  up  with  me.  The  water 
fell  all  about  them,  in  such  beautiful  colors  ; 
and  my  robe  seemed  covered  with  precious 
stones." 

"God  will  accept  you  just  the  same,  you 
know." 

"  O  !  yes  ;  "  but  a  sigh  followed. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we  will  do,  little  one  ; 
we'll  have  Christian  service  here,  and  you 
shall  hear  it  all.  Wont  that  be  next  best?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Mr.  Coit, 
would  it  please  you,  to  have  me  get  well?  " 

"  Hager,  darling,"  he  cried  almost  passion 
ately,  w  God  knows,  it  would  be  the  happiest 
day  of  my  life." 


268  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"  And  if  I  die — you  never,  never  will  for 
get  me." 

"  Forget  you ;  "  he  turned  from  the  saintly 
little  face — a  quick,  heavy  sob  sounded  upon 
the  still  air;  his  chest  heaved  mightily,  a 
shiver  ran  through  his  frame.  Controlling 
himself,  he  was  calm  again ;  as  he  looked 
down  upon  her,  great  tears  making  a  heavy 
mist  before  his  eyes.  "My  little  Hager — you 
know  I  could  not  forget  you,  who  are  the  first 
fruits  of  my  mission."  Sarah,  who  had  been 
seated  near,  arose  to  leave  the  room.  Some 
way,  everything  looked  dim  and  clouded  to 
her,  even  Hager's  beautiful  face. 

That  evening,  she  said  to  her  father, 
quietly,  her  face  was  much  paler  than  usual, 
"  I  think,  father,  if  Hager  had  lived,  Mr.  Coit 
would  have  made  her  his  wife." 

"  Ah  ! "  the  old  man  looked  up,  then  went 
at  his  tools  again ;  "  it  might  be.  Hager  was 
always  a  sweet  child ;  a  precious,  affectionate 
little  creature,  and  hers  a  face  unlike  all  the 
others.  I  used  to  think  Saint  wouldn't  keep 


A  GREAT   REFORMATION.  269 


her  long.  So  you  think,  young  Coit  likes 
her." 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  "  and  with  an  imperceptible 
sigh,  Sarah  drew  up  her  little  stand,  and  com 
menced  sewing. 

At  that  moment,  the  mill  agent  was  pacing 
his  own  room,  with  hurried  steps.  Occasion 
ally,  in  a  low,  tremulous  whisper,  might  be 
heard  the  words, 

"  The  dearest  idol  I  may  have, 

Whate'er  that  idol  be; 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  thy  throne 
And  worship  only  Thee." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    DAY    IN    THE    WOODS. 

COLONEL  LEFFINGWELL  gave  * 
party  in  the  woods  that  week.  When 
Hager  heard  of  it,  her  eye  brightened. 

"You  will  go,  Mr.  Coit,  and  enjoy  it  all 
you  can,  for  me  and  yourself,  too.  You 
don't  know  what  good  times  they  have  out  in 
the  green  woods ;  oh !  you  can't  think  how 
they  do  enjoy  themselves  !  " 

Guilford  looked  with  a  swelling  heart  down 
upon  the  little  figure,  so  helpless,  so  unselfish  ! 
Not  a  thought  for  herself  save  that  she  wished 
him  to  have  a  double  portion  of  pleasure  by 
enjoying  it  for  her.  He  saw  how  much  it 
delighted  her,  so  he  made  no  vain  excuses, 
only  said, 

"To  be  sure  I  will  go,  little  Hager,  if  you 
wish  me  to,  and  I  will  come  home  with  a 
budget  of  news. 


A  DAY   IN  THE   WOODS.  271 

"  Thank  you,  and  tell  Miss  Mary  how  pleas 
ant  her  visit  seemed ;  I  didn't  talk  much  when 
she  was  here,  but  I  felt  grateful ;  and  say  the 
flowers  she  sent  keep  fresh." 

The  mill  girls  flew  back  and  forth  at  inter 
vals  to  whisper  of  the  anticipated  pleasure. 
Teams  were  decorated  with  flags  ;  teams  went 
loaded  from  the  Colonel's  to  the  grounds,  five 
miles  off,  where  there  was  a  waterfall,  and  un 
rivalled  scenery ;  teams  carried  music  and 
tables  and  flowers,  and  finally  the  merry  com 
pany,  by  tens  and  twenties,  and  even  forties. 

O  !  the  open  country,  the  glorious,  God- 
made  country  !  To  live  within  sight  of  a  field 
with  its  carpet  of  emerald,  is  a  luxury.  How 
much  more  to  view  broad  acres  of  infinite 
variety,  to  rove  with  satisfied  gaze  from  the 
comely  swell  of  the  hill  to  the  beautiful  level 
of  the  meadow,  touched  here  and  there  by  the 
light-springing  birds,  while  the  sweet  hay 
cocks,  the  loosened  tresses  of  the  earth,  chang 
ing  from  yellow  to  brown,  throw  off  odors  as 
of  precious  oils. 


272  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


And  then  the  trees,  singly  and  in  families, 
those  dumb  but  animate  things,  whispering  in 
language  known  only  by  the  winds,  stretching 
off  for  miles  toward  the  sea  and  toward  the 
farther  country.  Their  leaves  sparkle  in  the 
sunshine,  their  branches  overshadow  the  roofs 
of  humble  homes ;  their  fruits  fall  into  the 
dimpled  hands  of  children,  their  beauty  causes 
hearts  to  be  unconsciously  glad ;  and  God 
made  them  graceful,  so  that  in  all  their  mo 
tions  they  speak  of  an  unchangeable  love. 

Then  there  are  the  sparkling  blue  streams, 
lying  in  green  basins,  and  margined  with  low, 
dreamy  alders ;  and  still  farther  beyond,  the 
salt  sea,  like  a  purple-blue  mist,  with  its  ships, 
that  the  distance  purples  also,  heaving  its 
glittering  waves  against  shore  and  keel,  bear 
ing  great  freights  and  glad  tidings  over  its 
mighty  bosom. 

n  O  1  these  glorious  views  of  the  free,  un 
limited  country  1"  thought  Guilford  as,  seated 
upon  his  perch,  in  a  great  farm  hay-cart,  be 
side  the  driver,  he  overlooked  the  grand 


A   DAY   IN   THE   WOODS.  273 

stretches  of  God's  wonderful  limning ;  w  how 
.they  enlarge  the  soul !  One  grows  kindred 
with  the  bounteous  earth,  till  a  resting  place, 
even  in  its  darkest  corners,  seems  a  pleasant 
thing.  In  spite  of  the  narrowing  influences, 
and  despot  circumstances,  in  spite  of  the  ills 
of  flesh,  the  troubles  of  poverty,  the  carking 
cares  of  life,  death  and  decay,  the  contempla 
tion  of  these  innumerable  works  of  Deity  in 
fuses  buoyancy,  hope,  and  the  love  of  the 
everlasting  Father  in  the  soul,  till  even  the 
frame  seems  etherealized,  and  heaven  begun  on 
earth." 

And  it  is  even  so  in  every  experience.  The 
very  stones  glistening  upon  the  hill-sides 
speak  of  peace.  The  cattle,  deep  in  the  grass, 
seem  mutely  to  acknowledge  that,  God  has 
placed  them  upon  a  thousand  Mils. 

Hark  !  That  exquisite  trill  that  gives  such  fin 
ish  to  the  warble  of  the  forest-bird,  speaks  the 
mechanism  of  the  same  creative  hand.  The 
corn  enriched  with  tassels  of  gold ;  the  butterfly 
its  many  colored  wings  in  the  midst 


274  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


of  the  leaves  ;  the  tinted  flowers  of  carnation, 
of  royal  purple,  of  princely  yellow ;  the  apples, 
just  turning  from  russet  to  red — every  orchard 
a  mine  of  wealth  and  beauty  ;  the  barberries, 
like  jewels  of  flame  and  drops  of  amber — all 
these  fill  the  soul  to  the  brim  with  love  and 
admiration. 

"  If  this  depth  and  purity  of  atmosphere," 
again  thought  Guilford,  r  if  these  riches  of 
color  and  harmonies  of  shape,  these  sweets  of 
fruits  and  transparencies  of  pebbly  streams, 
these  clear  breathings  of  the  winds,  and  lofty 
breadths  of  sky  and  sea,  could  from  some 
alembic  be  poured  into  our  human  hearts, 
what  harmonies  would  play  along  our  lives  ! 
Then,  as  the  shadow's  that  fall  upon  the  hill 
sides  only  add  a  varied  loveliness,  so  would 
it  be  with  us  as  the  shadows  of  time  touched 
us  with  their  shifting  hues ;  always  gliding, 
always  making  new  shapes  of  beauty ;  always 
reflections  from  that  which  is  in  the  heavens 
above,  and  not  of  the  earth  beneath." 

"  There  are  the   groves  !  what  a  beautiful 


A   DAY   IN   THE   WOODS.  275 


place  !  "  cried  the  glad  voices,  as  the  wagons 
were  speedily  emptied.  Soon  dispersing,  the 
merry  company  moved  about  now  under  the 
shadows  of  the  trees,  and  now  on  broad 
patches  of  sun-lighted  grass.  Swings  were 
up,  platforms  arranged,  and  only  mirth  and 
happiness  seemed  universal  there.  Colonel 
Leffiugwell,  in  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  had 
provided  with  a  liberal  hand.  He  had  also 
made  arrangements  for  the  town  poor  who 
were  able  to  go.  They  were  carried  in  a 
wagon  with  easy  springs.  Wrinkled  faces 
seemed  youthful  again  with  smiles  ;  pain  and 
care  were  chased  away  or  forgotten. 

Mrs.  Leffingwell  went  in  an  easy  carriage. 
She  appeared  to.  have  taken  a  new  lease  of 
life  ;  there  was  no  repining,  no  petulance  ;  and 
the  calmness  with  which  now  she  looked  on 
things  that  would  once  have  irritated  beyond 
forbearance,  had  operated  most  favorably 
upon  her  health.  She  was  still  a  confirmed 
invalid,  but  thanks  to  the  religion  of  Christ, 
a  more  patient  one.  A  pretty  little  tent  had 


276  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


been  erected  for  her  accommodation,  and 
there,  on  entering,  she  found  her  daughter 
Mary,  and  several  friends,  visitors  at  Eose 
Hedge. 

"  You  see,  mother,  we  have  made  a  nice 
couch  for  you,"  said  her  daughter,  pointing  to 
a  high  heaped  mound  of  dried  mosses,  cover 
ed  with  shawls  and  blankets.  "I  sent  the 
men  to  gather  the  moss,  and  now  you  have  a 
chance  for  rest." 

The  tent  was  ornamented  with  roses,  and 
evergreen  hung  in  festoons  from  side  to  side. 

"That  was  Mr.  Coit's  work,"  said  Maud 
Mary,  pointing  to  the  graceful  hangings. 

"  Every  thing  he  does,  is  well  done,"  said 
Mrs.  Leffingwell.  "  I  never  saw  his  equal." 

"  He  needs  some  friends,"  said  the  young 
girl,  demurely,  "for  he  is  not  a  very  popular 
man.  I  liked  him,  till  he  made  his  opinions 
so  conspicuous ;  but  now  I  think  he  is  self- 
righteous, y' 

"  O  !  my  child,  he  is  one  of  the  humblest 
of  God's  creatures,"  said  Mrs.  Leffingwell. 


A   DAY   IN    THE    WOODS.  277 

"  I  don't  look  upon  him  in  that  light,"  said 
Mary  ;  "  neither  does  papa.  He's  dreadfully 
afraid  we  shall  have  dancing,  I  understand, 
and  I've  ordered  it  particularly,  because  he 
protests  against  it." 

Mrs.  LefHugwell  looked  greived  for  a  mo 
ment;  then  she  said  sadly,  "my  child,  I  fear 
I  can  never  undo  what  I  have  done — I  must 
leave  you  with  God." 

"Don't  fear  but  what  I  shall  do  well 
enough,  mother,"  said  Mary  lightly,  that 
strange  spirit  of  rebellion  that  operates  so 
powerfully  upon  every  heart,  rising  up  at  her 
mother's  words.  "  Merric  and  you  can  enjoy 
these  things,  you  know,  since  he  is  going  to 
be  a  minister." 

"Merric  a  minister  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lef- 
fingwell  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  a  parson.  All  I  know  about  it  is, 
that  he  is  willing  to  relinquish  his  brilliant 
prospects  for  a  country  school-house,  and 
boarding  round,  or  standing  up,  at  the  best, 
in  a  pine  board  meeting-house,  and  thumping 


278  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


the  Bible.  I  don't  see  why  he  need  become  a 
fanatic  all  at  once ;  he  isn't  so  very  wicked, 
and  never  has  been." 

At  this  time  Mary  Leffigwell  was  alone  with 
her  mother,  their  friends  having  left  the  tent 
to  ramble  about. 

"  My  child  how  do  you  know  this  ?  " 

"Because  I  overheard  my  father  talking 
with  him.  '  If  that  is  your  decision,'  he  said, 
*  If  you  will  forego  the  prospects  which  I  have 
pointed  out  to  you,  and  study  for  the  ministry, 
you  and  I  must  go  different  ways.' " 

"And  what  did  Merric  say?"  asked  Mrs. 
Leffingwell,  her  cheeks  crimson  with  excite 
ment. 

"I  hope  you  wont  oppose  me,  father;  if 
you  do,  still  I  must  be  about  my  chosen  work ; 
these  are  my  clearest  convictions.'  Father 
then  walked  towards  the  door  and  I  hurried 
away." 

"  My  God,  I  thank  thee,"  was  the  inmost 
grateful  expression  of  the  invalid's  heart,  but 
she  said  nothing.  Mary,  after  seeing  her 


A   DAY   IN   THE   WOODS.  279 


comfortably  seated,  went  out  at  her  request, 
to  join  the  gay  company,  while  the  mother 
felt  not  alone  with  the  beautiful  conviction 
that  her  son,  like  herself,  was  a  disciple  of  the 
blessed  Saviour.  Yes,  Mrs.  Leffingwell  was 
a  Christian.  The  resolve  had  been  made  in 
one  of  her  hours  of  utter  gloom,  that  she 
would  throw  all  upon  the  mercy  of  Christ,  and 
find  happiness  that  would  never  fail  her.  Not 
without  many  and  fierce  struggles  did  the  soul, 
bound  hand  and  foot  as  it  were  in  the  fashions 
and  frivolities  of  life,  come  up  like  the  sheeted 
Lazarus,  out  of  the  tomb  of  its  unbelief,  and 
through  God's  grace  walk  forth  a  new  being  to 
see  new  life  and  new  beauty  clothing  even  the 
very  grass  of  the  fields,  and  smiling  from  the 
trees.  It  was  the  work  of  many  days.  It 
was  compassed  by  much  anguished  pleading, 
by  a  true  repentance.  It  was  sealed  by  Christ, 
and  in  openly  professing  her  love  to  Him, 
before  her  family,  she  had  made  such  a  com 
motion  as  years  of  woiidliness  and  fashion 
had  never  seen  there  before. 


CHAPTEE  XVH. 

A     NEW     FEATURE. 

'HE  large  company  divided  according  to 
their  several  tastes.  Some  of  the  more 
reckless  young  men  and  women  had  walked 
nearly  a  mile  to  have  games  of  ninepins  in  a 
bowling  alley  at  that  distance.  Others  enjoy 
ed  the  swinging  and  the  simple  plays  in  which 
Guilford  Coit  was  the  leader.  He  was  in  de 
mand  everywhere.  Genuine  happiness  made 
his  face  beam  so  that  its  kindliness  was  a  card 
of  recommendation  even  to  the  little  children, 
and  it  was  "oh!  Mr.  Coit,  do  this,  oh,  Mr. 
Coit,  can't  you  make  up  something  that  we 
can  play  ?  "  and  he  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing,  seeming  like  a  child  himself.  Col 
onel  Lcffingwell  saw  him  leading  the  games, 
heard  his  merry  shout,  and  care-free  laugh, 
loudest  of  all,  and  said  to  himself,  while  his 
brow  grew  dark,  "  this  man  is  incxpli cable." 


A   NEW    FEATURE.  281 

At  whatever  turn  one  might  come  upon, 
somebody  was  revelling  in  the  enjoyments  of 
the  day.  Father  Goldby,  with  his  band  of 
halt  and  lame  sauntered  or  sat  together,  and 
it  was  affecting  to  hear  the  old  people  talk  of 
their  former  days.  "When  I  was  young," 
was  the  string  upon  which  they  all  harped ; 
some  pathetically,  others  ludicrously,  others 
again  with  a  quiet  zest  and  relish  that  gave 
token  that  their  hearts  were  young  yet. 

Sarah  Church  and  her  father  were  now  and 
then  seen  through  the  emerald  vistas,  she 
hanging  lovingly  on  his  arm,  and  very  proud 
of  him.  In  one  of  his  rambles  Guilford  met 
them. 

w  You  see  I  have  not  been  idle,"  said  Sarah, 
handing  a  list  from  which  he  read  the  names 
of  twenty  who  had  promised  to  join  in  form 
ing  a  Sabbath  School. 

"  That  is  very  encouraging,'"  he  said ;  "  how 
it  will  cheer  the  heart  of  our  little  Hager." 
Mr.  Hanfort  came  along.  He  walked  with  his 
face  down,  his  hands  folded  behind  him. 


282  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


"I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  the  good 
work,"  said  Guilford,  cheerfully. 

"Oil  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  man, 
with  a  startled  air,  "what  work  do  you  refer 
to?" 

Guilford  stated  the  matter  to  him. 

?  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Hanfort, 
though  he  spoke  with  a  gloomy  voice.  "Save 
the  young,  sir,  save  the  young,"  he  said 
solemnly,  and  passed  on,  still  with  his  head 
bent,  still  with  his  hands  behind  him. 

"Poor  man!"  said  Sarah,  pityingly,  "he 
can't  get  over  the  dreadful  death  of  his  son. 
I  understand  that  he  has  since  received  fresh 
proofs  of  the  fact."  In  another  moment,  al 
most  before  they  knew  it,  Mr.  Hanfort  was  at 
their  side  again,  his  head  more  erect,  his  arms 
folded  before  him. 

"  Mr.  Coit,"  he  exclaimed,  and  his  voice 
even,  had  changed,  "  what  can  I  do  for  Clifton 
Locks?" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Guilford,  laying  a 
hand  upon  his  arm,  "  what  cannot  you  do  for 


A   NEW   FEATURE.  283 


Clifton  Locks  ?  With  a  few  liberal  Christian 
men,  we  could  revolutionize  Clifton  Locks, 
sir." 

w  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Hanfort,  the  gloom 
clearing  somewhat  from  his  face.  "I  feel  as 
if  I  wanted  a  work  to  do.  I  have  mourned 
long  enough  over  the  late  of  my  poor  boy. 
Sir,  it  has  led  me  to  come  back,  and  take  up 
my  unfulfilled  duties  ;  it  has  raised  the  altar  in 
my  family ;  it  has  bruised  my  man-fearing 
spirit,  and  humbled  me  to  the  dust ;  it  has 
taught  me  to  be  more  regardful  of  my  family. 
But,  oh  !  sir,  I  cannot  banish  the  terrible  con 
viction  that  my  poor  boy's  death  lays  at  my 
door.  As  I  passed  you  just  now,  some  good 
spirit  whispered  to  me,  tell  him  so.  Work 
with  him  for  the  regeneration  of  all  these 
souls  ;  do  your  duty  to  them  as  a  man  and  a 
Christian,  and  God  may  be  merciful  to  him  ! 
It  may  be  a  foolish  impression,  pass  that  by, 
but  tell  me  just  wiiat  I  can  do  for  Clifton 
Locks." 
"  My  dear  friend,  the  fields  are  all  white 


284  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

unto  the  harvest,"  said  Guilford,  his  heart 
swelling  with  new  joy.  "Look  upon  them," 
and  he  pointed  to  the  throngs  on  every  hand  ; 
K  we  can  make  a  second  Paradise  of  Clifton 
Locks,  it  is  so  beautiful !  yes,  it  needs  only 
the  active,  living  spirit  of  God  in  these  young 
hearts,  to  make  it  a  heaven  on  earth." 

The  sad  face  of  Mr.  Hanfort  brightened. 

"  I  thank  God  that  you  ever  came  here,  Mr. 
Coit,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"And  I,  too,"  said  Guilford,  humbly,  with 
no  vain  attempt  at  parrying  what  some  might 
call  a  high  compliment,  "  if  I  may  but  be  the 
means  in  His  hands  of  doing  any  one  any 
good." 

"What  a  rare  character,"  whispered  Mr. 
Church  aside  to  his  daughter. 

"  I  will  see  and  talk  with  you  further,"  Mr. 
Hanfort  said,  holding  out  his  hand  again,  and 
grasping  that  of  the  agent  warmly ;  "  this  has 
been  on  my  mind,  more  or  less,  for  some 
days." 

**  Well,  Sarah,  you  see   the  little  leaven  is 


A   NEW   FEATURE.  285 


working,"  Guilford  remarked,  as  he  passed 
her ;  "  God  will  yet  reign  in  Clifton  Locks." 

The  young  man  moved  forward — he  saw 
the  Colonel's  gardener,  who  was  creeping 
along  under  a  great  weight  of  evergreen 
branches. 

"  How  are  you,  Jack  ?  " 

"Bless  God,  well  and  happy,  sir,"  the  man 
replied ;  "  but  Mr.  Menic  is  been  looking 
for  you  a  long  while,  sir." 

"Where  is  he,  Jack?" 

"  Just  yonder  by  the  tent,  him  and  Mr. 
Austin,  together.  He's  been  talking  power 
ful  to  Mr.  Austin,  sir ;  bless  God,  he's  got 
hold  of  his  heart,  sir." 

"  I'll  hurry  to  him ;  but  where  are  you  car 
rying  all  this  trimming  ?  " 

"  To  the  tables,  sir.  The  mill-hands,  they 
are  going  to  fit  up  a  sort  of  bower  for  Miss 
Mary,  sir." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Guilford,  and  hurried 
in  the  direction  of  his  friend.  He  found  him 
alone,  walking  backward  and  forward.  As 


286  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


soon  as  he  saw  the  agent,  his  face  brightened. 
He  hastened  to  meet  him.  "The  die  is  cast," 
he  said ;  "  I  have  come  out  from  the  world." 

M I  am  very  glad,"  exclaimed  Guilford,  his 
voice  trembling  with  emotion. 

*  Yes,  three  years,  if  you  will  believe  me, 
I  have  been  fighting  off  the  conviction  that 
God  requires  my  heart.  I  had  a  class-mate  at 
college,  who  died  about  my  age,  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  Christians.  He  was  ever  urging 
me  to  accept  the  Saviour.  Is  it  not  strange 
that  at  times  you  have  resembled  him  so 
much  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  spoke  through 
you  ?  I  loved  him ;  I  would  almost  have 
given  my  life  to  save  him,  and  yet  I  would 
not  give  to  God  that  which  was  already  his 
own,  by  creation,  even  though  I  knew  what 
comfort  it  would  afford  him  on  his  dying 
bed." 

"  Thank  God  !  it  is  not  too  late,"  whispered 
Guilford. 

"I  do  thank  God,"  was  the  reply;  "thank 
Him  that  He  counts  me  worthy  to  suffer, 


A  NEW  FEATURE.  287 

for — my  father  has  all  but  disowned  me.  He 
says  he  will  not  see  me  through  college  if  I 
hold  such  views ;  that  he  will  not  aid  me  in 
any  way ;  that  I  can  have  my  choice,  my 
father's  home  and  a  lucrative  profession,  back 
ed  by  strong  influence,  or  poverty,  struggle 
and  exile.  He  was  very  harsh,  yesterday, 
and  has  not  spoken  to  me  since  ;  even  Mary 
seems  cold  to  me  to-day,  and  I  have  shrank 
from  speaking  to  my  mother,  for  it  is  doubtful 
how  she  would  receive  it." 

"With  joy  and  thanksgiving,"  said  Guil- 
ford. 

w  Are  you  sure  of  it?" 

"  I  am  quite  sure  of  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"Then  I  shall  not  be  a  stranger  in  my 
father's  house." 

"  Neither  there  nor  in  Clifton  Locks,"  re 
plied  Guilford,  fervently ;  M I  tell  you  there  is 
going  to  be  a  great  work  in  this  town.  When 
such  men  as  Mr.  Hanfort  come  forward,  and 
of  their  own  accord,  cry  out  '  what  shall  I  do 
for  Clifton  Locks?'  it  is  the  sign  that  harvest 
is  near." 


288  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

*  Did  he  ?  Did  that  cold  professor  ask  that 
question  ?  " 

"He  both  asked  it,  and  meant  it,"  said 
Guilford.  "  If  he  wants  work,  be  sure  there 
is  enough  ready  to  his  hands.  But  what  will 
you  do  ?  " 

"  God  will  direct,"  replied  Merric,  straight 
ening  his  youthful  figure,  a  glow  of  holy  en 
thusiasm  kindling  his  face ;  w  isn't  it  good  to 
trust  in  Him?" 

w  Yes,  and  to  feel  there  is  no  possible  dan 
ger  in  loving  Him  too  well,  in  concentrating 
our  energies  too  wholly  and  fixedly  upon 
Him.  Earthly  objects  may  excite  our  fond 
ness,  our  idolatry  to  a  dangerous  extent,  but 
the  heavenly,  the  imperishable — God — all  and 
in  all — mighty,  as  He  is,  He  stoops  to  our 
poor  hearts,  and  we  may  worship  without  fear 
of  stint.  Yes,  you  say  bravely.  None  ever 
trusted  Him  in  vain.  You  must  go  through 
college." 

K  And  I  shall ;  my  faith  is  strong." 

"  We  will  find  a  way,"  said  Guilford  cheer- 


A   NEW   FEATURE.  289 

fully,  "  even  if  the  Colonel  should  deny  yon 
the  house,  you  know  where  to  come." 

"  Most  assuredly,"  was  the  reply ;  *  but  I 
trust  my  father  would  not  proceed  to  such 
measures.  I  have  been  talking  with  Austin 
Grande,"  he  added,  willing  to  change  the  sub 
ject.  "  Grande  is  a  good  fellow,  but  bitter, 
bitter  in  his  views  of  religion." 

"Yes,"  replied  Guilford,  "so  bitter  that  he 
will  not  stay  there  long ;  he  will  come  out  of 
doubting  castle." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,*5  said 
Merric. 

"  Look  here — Coit — Leffingwell,"  shouted  a 
familiar  voice. 

They  turned,  it  was  Austin  Grande  himself, 
his  cheeks  heated  by  exercise. 

"  We're  going  to  have  a  jollier  time  than 
we  bargained  for,"  he  cried,  coming  toward 
them,  breathing  hard.  Throwing  the  thick 
curls  from  his  wet  forehead  ;  "  Guess  what,  if 
you  can." 

"Dancing,"  suggested  Guilford.  Austin 
sneered  a  little. 


290  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

w  What  made  that  come  into  your  brain,  I 
wonder  ?  "  he  queried  half  impatiently.  "  No, 
we've  had  dancing ;  been  to  the  other  end  of 
the  grove,  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  you  Pu 
ritans.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  we're  going 
to  have  a  genuine,  old  fashioned  clam-bake." 

K  A  clam  bake,  here  ? "  said  Merric,  in 
credulously. 

"Yes ;  your  father  met  a  man  with  a  load, 
bought  the  whole  lot,  hired  man,  team  and 
everything;  so  they've  gone  to  work  down 
here.  It  would  do  you  good  to  have  a  sniff 
at  the  air  in  that  direction.  It  is  odorous  of 
salt-hay,  burning  weeds  and  shell-fish.  Want 
to  go  over?" 

Guilford  and  Men-ic,  concluded  that  they 
did.  Groups  were  already  on  their  way 
to  the  scene  of  excitement.  To  most  it 
was  an  entirely  new  thing.  They  crowded 
the  piny  leaves  aside,  and  their  feet  sank  in 
the  soft  moss,  while  laughing  voices,  twitter 
ing  birds,  the  music  in  the  branches  overhead, 
the 'shrill,  distant  whistle  and  hallo,  added  a 


A   NEW  FEATURE.  291 

pleasant  exhilaration.'  They  passed  the  tables, 
already  spread  with  white,  and  arched  at  the 
head  with  evergreen  boughs.  The  scent  of 
the  woods  came  fresher  as  they  advanced ;  the 
clatter  of  dishes,  and  breaking  of  ice,  and  odor 
of  viands  and  tea  and  coffee,  cooking  over 
forest  fires  in  the  open  air.  White  dresses 
flitted  in  and  out  among  the  trees,  youthful 
faces  smiled  at  them,  the  bland  breeze  touch 
ed  their  temples  lovingly. 

At  last  they  came  within  sight  of  the  novel 
view — a  huge  mound  of  hot  sand  and  smould 
ering  weeds,  mosses  and  branches.  Men  were 
already  at  work  throwing  aside,  with  long 
shovels  constructed  out  of  pine  branches  and 
boards,  rudely  put  together,  the  smoking 
shelfish.  The  Colonel  himself  appeared,  hur- ' 
rying  round  on  all  sides — his  face  flushed, 
giving  orders  here  and  there,  directing,  ques 
tioning  and  deciding. 

"  They  are  taking  out  corn,"  said  Guilford, 
as  the  steaming  ears,  well  wrapped  in  their 
husks,  were  thrown  on  the  grass. 


292  THE   HELL  AGENT. 


"  And  fish  !  "  exclaimed  Merric,  in  amaze. 

"You  see  the  facts  of  the  case  are  these," 
said  Austin.  w  The  men  had  contracted  to 
furnish  a  great  bake  np  in  Milford,  but  they 
suid  on  a  pinch  they  could  provide  the  things, 
and  take  them  there  late  to-night,  if  the  Col 
onel  would  give  them  their  price.  Of  course 
he  put  down  the  cash,  and  they  were  in  no 
wise  loth.  The  materials  will  be  fresher  for 
Mjlford,  and  it  don't  matter  to  these  men  if 
they  do  sit  up  all  night,  for  the  sake  of  a 
speculation.  It's  a  money-making  delay  for 
them." 

"  Now  came  the  fish,  well  wrapped  in  brown 
paper,  smelling  deliciously  of  the  sea.  Great 
buckets  of  clams,  gaping  and  luscious,  were 
carried  off  steaming  to  the  tables  ;  and  from  the 
corn  gathered  in  heaps,  hundreds  of  dozens 
were  taken,  still  in  their  clinging  envelopes, 
leaving  behind  the  great  smoking  mass  from 
which  belched  now  and  then  thick  puffs  of 
flame. 

Presently  there  was  a  great  ringing  of  bells, 


A   NEW   FEATURE.  293 


a  mighty  clamor — the  signal  for  dinner. 
Everybody  was  hungry.  Exercise  and  the 
fresh  air  had  given  them  appetites  that  a  city 
denizen  might  envy.  Already  the  aged  and 
infirm  were  seated.  Colonel  Leffingwell  led 
the  blushing  Mary  to  her  beautiful  ornament 
ed  seat,  Mrs.  Leffingwell  preferring  to  dine 
in  her  little  tent,  and  Merric  deciding  to  keep 
her  company.  Guilford  and  Austin  were 
placed  near  the  Colonel,  Guilford  observing 
with  sorrow  that  the  latter  had  caused  bot 
tles  of  champagne  to  be  set  on  the  table  near 
him. 

One  of  the  young  ladies,  a  visitor  at  the 
Colonel's,  had  professed  to  take  a  singular  in 
terest  in  Guilford.  Being  a  woman  of  con 
siderable  ability,  she  had  more  than  once 
argued  with  him  upon  different  subjects,  but 
invariably  ended  in  being  a  more  of  a  listener 
than  a  controversialist.  She  had  arranged 
in  some  way  to  be  seated  by  the  side  of  Guil 
ford,  and  opposite  Austin,  so  that  in  conver 
sation  she  could  command  them  both.  For  a 


294  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

while  it  was  a  busy  time,  passing,  helping, 
changing  plates  and  refreshments,  but  Miss 
Chesney  had  managed  to  find  a  theme  on 
which  she  was  enlarging  to  a  lady  on  her 
right.  Presently  she  turned  to  Guilford. 

w  Well,  Mr.  Coit,"  she  remarked,  careless 
ly,  "  what  do  you  think ;  is  there  such  a  thing 
as  an  innocent  flirtation  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "provided  there  was 
ever  an  innocent  theft,  or  a  harmless  murder." 

"  O !  you  take  it  too  seriously,"  she  said, 
after  a  momentary  surprise. 

"  I  am  perfectly  serious  in  what  I  say,"  he 
replied.  "  One  can  bear  to  be  cheated  by  a 
cloth-merchant  or  a  grocer,  though  the  tran 
saction  merits  unlimited  contempt ;  but  to  be 
deceived  by  the  lips  and  eyes,  the  smiles  and 
the  speech  of  young  hearts  that  God  has 
made  to  give  love  and  consolation,  makes 
wounds  that  even  time  cannot  heal.  Heaven 
only  knows,"  he  continued,  with  earnestness, 
"how  many  heart-hardened  men  walk  the 
earth,  soured  and  unhappy — finding  falsehood 


A    NEW   FEATURE. 


everywhere,  looking  crookedly  upon  all  crea 
tures  of  harmony,  seeing  distortion  in  every 
thing,  because  their  natures  have  been  warp 
ed  by  some  cruel  deception — such  a  thing,  per 
haps,  as  you  would  call  an  innocent  flirtation, 
commenced  in  sport,  but  ending  in  anguish, 
to  one,  at  least.  Like  the  melted  iron,  glow 
ing  and  rich,  these  men  might  have  been 
shaped  to  forms  of  enduring  beauty ;  but  the 
sledge-hammer  of  deception  came  down,  flat 
tened  and  twisted,  and  left  them  cold,  black, 
shapeless  masses." 

"You  are  eloquent,  Mr.  Coit,"  said  the 
lady,  not  yet  prepared  for  a  refutation. 

"  The  nature  of  the  subject  is  such  that  I 
talk  earnestly  and  feelingly,  for  I  believe  that 
the  victim  of  a  flirt,  in  proportion  to  his  single 
ness  of  nature,  his  wholesome  and  implicit 
faith  in  his  kind,  his  generous,  unwarped 
sense  of  justice,  and  the  breadth  and  depth  of 
his  love,  oftentimes  becomes  the  more  morose, 
unyielding,  woman-hating  man.  And  many 
such  do  marry  from  prudential  motives,  after 


296  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


the  fatal  change,  and  lead  their  wives  most 
unhappy  lives." 

"  Ah  !  but  you  know  young  and  inexperi 
enced  girls  are  not  the  only  flirts  in  the  world, 
Mr.  €oit." 

"  Yes,  I  do  know  it,"  he  returned,  with  deep 
er  tones  and  a  kindling  eye  ; "  shame  that  I  must 
say  it,  and  to  their  absolute  and  eternal  dis 
grace,  be  it  spoken,  some  married  women  are 
flirts.  Not  even  the  sacredness  of  the  vows 
they  have  taken  upon  them,  the  trust  which 
their  husbands  confide  in  them,  nor  the  opin 
ion  of  the  world  will  deter  them  from  the 
satanic  love  of  vanity  and  misrule.  Not  even 
the  babes,  whose  soft  eyes  rebuke  them  at 
every  glance,  and  whose  innocence  is  a  con 
tinual  prayer  for  their  unworthy  mothers,  can 
wake  them  to  a  realization  of  the  precipice  on 
whose  brink  they  stand  swaying  to  a  fall." 

"Excuse  me,  Coit,"  said  Austin,  "but  al 
low  me  to  ask,  did  you  never  think  of  taking 
orders?  A  capital  clergyman  was  lost  in 
you." 


A   NEW   FEATURE.  297 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Guilford,  quietly  smiling, 
"  although  I  have  not  only  taken  orders,  but  I 
try  to  obey  orders,"  he  added. 

"You  do  not  overlook  the  fact,  I  hope,  that 
our  sex  are  not  the  only  offenders,"  said  Miss 
Chesney,  diligently  cutting  away  at  an  ear  of 
corn ;  "  there  are  some  men  who  flirt." 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  of  them," 
said  Coit,  in  a  lower  voice  :  "They  are  sui 
cides,  strangling  the  spiritual  within  them ; 
they  are  theives,  stealing  trust  and  confidence 
from  the  hearts  that  shelter  them  with  honest 
love  ;  they  are  counterfeits,  passing  for  genuine 
the  smiles  they  lavish ;  they  are  liars,  bartering 
their  truth  and  honor  for  a  shallow  favor; 
they  are  murderers,  striking  virtue  to  the 
earth.  They  combine,  in  short,  a  variety  of 
every  sin,  every  rank  defilement  under  heav 
en." 

"  Mercy  on  me,  Mr.  Coit,  you  are  very 
severe,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  you  don't  leave 
a  loop-hole  for  them  to  defend  themselves." 

"  They  cannot  defend  themselves,"  was  the 
reply. 


298  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


w  Coit,  just  this  once  you  will  take  a  little 
champagne,"  said  the  hearty  voice  of  Colonel 
Leffingwell.  "  Miss  Mary  requests  it  as  a  per 
sonal  favor." 

Guilford's  face  grew  red ;  he  loved  approba 
tion,  he  disliked  to  be  singular.  Many  eyes 
were  fastened  upon  him ;  Austin's  in  particu 
lar  seemed  to  say,  "if  you  throw  aside  this 
excessive  singularity,  and  be  more  like  other 
folks,  I  shall  think  better  of  your  profession." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  Miss  Leffingwell  for  her 
politeness,"  he  said,  in  a  somewhat  constrain 
ed  voice.  "  I  am  very  certain  she  will  over 
look  my  refusal  when  I  say  that  it  is  one  of 
my  fixed  principles  never  to  taste  wine  under 
any  consideration." 

"Coit,  you  are  almost  a  saint;"  said  the 
Colonel,  with  a  sneer  that  was  satanic. 

The  agent's  lips  grew  white,  and  for  one  in 
stant  quivered  with  indignation.  By  the 
merciful  interposition  of  God,  as  he  afterwards 
said,  he  was  enabled  to  overlook  this  insult. 
The  impulse  was  to  throw  back,  as  the  world 


A   NEW   FEATURE.  299 


might  call  it,  a  manly  defiance,  and  stalk  from 
the  table,  but  he  remembered  that  Christ  bore 
meekly  the  imprecations  of  his  enemies  ;  he 
seemed  to  see  for  a  moment  the  little  pallid 
figure  of  Hager  between  white  curtains,  and 
there  came  a  grief  to  his  soul  that  quelled  all 
rashness,  and  enabled  him  to  conquer  himself. 

The  Colonel  turned  quickly  to  Austin 
Grande. 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  wine, 
but  I  have  too  much  respect  for  Miss  Leffing- 
well  to  refuse  so  kind  an  invitation,"  the  lat 
ter  said  with  a  gallant  manner,  and  a  side 
look  at  Guilford  as  full  of  evil  as  the  Col 
onel's  voice. 

"Austin,  for  my  sake,  forbear,"  whispered 
Guilford,  his  lips  growing  pale  again. 

The  answer  was  a  defiant  laugh,  and  the 
glass  was  tossed  off  with  a  reckless  grace. 
The  wine  was  the  strongest,  Austin's  head  the 
weakest ;  the  subtle  fire  mounted  to  the  brain, 
and  played  generously  among  the  heart 
strings,  inducing  a  brilliant  delirium,  for  it 


300  THE  MILL  AGENT. 


was  his  first  glass,  but,  sad  to  say  through  that 
day  at  least,  not  his  last. 

When  they  arose  from  the  table  some  went 
back  to  their  sports,  others  sallied  to  the  river, 
not  far  off,  for  the  purpose  of  boating,  and 
Guilford  had  made  up  his  mind  to  return, 
when  Merric  joined  him. 

"  I  have  had  such  a  glorious  talk  with  moth 
er,"  he  said,  smiling,  w  though  it  cuts  me  to 
the  heart  to  see  my  father's  altered  manner. 
He  has  not  spoken  to  me  to-day." 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Leffingwell? "  queried 
Guilford. 

"  Just  put  her  hi  the  carriage,"  was  Merric's 
reply ;  w  She  was  very  much  fatigued,  and 
thought  it  best  to  go  home  at  once.  What  a 
treasure  I  have  found  in  her,  she  who  was  so 
different.  What!  you  are  not  going  al 
ready  ! " 

"  I  am  anxious  about  little  Hager,"  said 
Guilford. 

"  You  needn't  be  ;  I  heard  from  her  half  an 
hour  ago." 


A   NEW    FEATURE.  301 


"  You  did !  by  whom,  pray  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  wagon-men ;  father  sent  him 
to  the  tavern  for  something,  and  he  saw  her. 
He  said  Hager  told  him  to  bring  word  to  you 
that  she  was  very  comfortable,  that  you  need 
not  hurry  home." 

"  Dear  child  !  "  murmured  Guilford,  "I had 
rather  be  there  than  here,  but  perhaps  it  would 
grieve  her  if  I  returned." 

K  Let  us  go  to  the  river,"  Merric  suggested. 
I  know  where  there's  a  fine  place  for  a  bath, 
out  of  sight  of  the  boating ;  come,  it  will  be  a 
grand  finale  to  this  glorious  day." 

Guilford  walked  along  with  him.  They 
formed  a  pleasant  contrast;  Guilford,  dark 
and  somewhat  sombre  of  countenance,  Merric 
with  boyish  curls,  blue  eyes  and  a  bright, 
healthful  color  in  his  cheeks. 


CHAPTER  XVin. 

DROWNED. 

Qjf  AM  disinclined  for  bathing,"  said  Guil- 
r2J  ford,  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  river, 
flowing  over  smooth  stones,  and  walled  in  on 
one  side  by  a  mass  of  loosely  piled  rocks, 
some  six  feet  high.  The  rich  coloring  of  na 
ture  tinged  this  stony  barrier,  the  green  and 
gray  mosses  coated  with  spotted  layers  of 
crimson,  deep  arches,  broad  flags  of  yellow 
and  long  reaches  of  vivid  sea-green.  The 
boats  were  already  in  use,  being  paddled  in 
among  the  snow-like  leaves  of  the  water-lily. 
Girls  with  uncovered  heads  sat  in  them  plash 
ing  the  water  with  idle  hands,  some  drawing 
up  the  long  velvety  strings  or  stems  of  the 
lilies.  Singing  and  shouting  voices  sounded 
near  and  far ;  the  sunlight  came  in  pencilled 
lines,  curving  and  braided,  between  the  thin 
willow  branches. 


DROWNED.  303 


"  Go  and  take  your  bath,  Merric,"  said 
Guilford,  "  I'll  wait  here.  When  you  come 
back,  maybe  we'll  go  boating  too." 

w  I  wish  you  would  come,"  Merric,  replied ; 
"  but  since  you  wont,  why,  I  hope  you'll  enjoy 
yourself.  I  need  the  refreshment ;  I  am  ac 
customed  to  it." 

He  went  away  on  this.  Guilford  walked 
slowly  back  and  forth  enjoying  everything ; 
his  own  mind,  for  had  he  not  conquered  him 
self?  the  beautiful  scene  before,  around  him, 
all  animated  nature.  Soon  the  sounds  of  gay 
laughter  grew  fainter,  the  boats  floated  off 
and  away,  the  river  lay  before  him,  its  flaggy 
sides  quietly  rippling  against  the  pebbly  bank. 

Guilford  stood  still,  lost  in  pleasant  thought. 
His  arms  were  folded,  there  was  a  smile  on  his 
lips  and  in  his  dark  eyes  a  dreamy  light.  He 
knew  not  that  he  was  overlooked,  that  the 
Colonel's  daughter  had  just  paused  not  far  off 
and  was  regarding  him  with  a  curious  eye. 
Presently  she  walked  slowly  forward,  picking 
up  here  and  there  a  shell  or  a  bit  of  moss. 


304  THE   MULL   AGENT. 


Her  nearness  startled  him  when  he  looked — 
he  smiled  surprisedly — bowed. 

"  My  brother  was  with  you  a  moment  ago, 
I  thought,"  she  said. 

"  He  was ;  he  is  near  here  now,  bathing. 
"What  a  beautiful  spot  this  is,  Miss  Leffing- 
well." 

"  Yes,  very  beautiful.  Father  found  it  here, 
completely  hidden  by  trees  ;  he  had  them  clear 
ed  away."  She  looked  aside  a  moment,  col 
ored  painfully,  seemed  struggling  with  her 
self,  and  finally  said  in  a  hesitating  voice, 

"  Mr.  Coit,  I  was  very  rude  to  ask  you  to 
take  wine  at  tile  dinner.  I  hope  you  will 
overlook  it." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  Miss  Mary,"  said  the 
agent,  pleasure  and  surprise  brightening  his 
face.  "  I  assure  you  I  can  take  no  credit  to 
myself;  it  was  hard  to  do  my  duty  to-day. 
Why  are  you  not  out  boating?  " 

"  My  father  cautioned  me  against  it.  He 
had  a  fearful  dream  some  days  ago,  and  since 
then  he  has  been  unwilling  that  1  should  go 


DROWNED.  305 


on  the  water  again.  Father  is  somewhat  su 
perstitious  ;  would  you  think  it,  Mr.  Coit  ?  " 

Guilford  smiled  a  little.  He  was  thinking 
how  people  who  have  no  anchor  to  lean  upon, 
catch  at  straws. 

w  I  don't  know  but  I  should,  Miss  Mary ; 
people  of  his  gay,  joyous  temperament  have 
more  forebodings  than  is  generally  suspect 
ed." 

"Is  there  no  hope  at  all  of  little  Hager 
Saint's  recovery  ?  "  asked  the  young  lady,  af 
ter  a  silence  of  some  moments. 

"  None  in  the  least,"  replied  Guilford,  his 
face  growing  very  grave.  w  The  little  saint ! " 
he  added  in  a  lower  voice. 

"  I  always  liked  her,"  said  Mary,  looking 
down. 

"  She  was  worthy  of  love,"  replied  GuUford, 
his  eye  unconsciously  measuring  the  long  dis 
tance  to  the  nearest  boat.  M I  sjiall  never  for 
get  her ;  I  think — thought  when  I  first  saw 
her,  that  she  has  one  of  the  purest  faces  I 
ever  beheld.  Now  that  suffering  has  spiritu- 


306  THE    MILL   AGENT. 


alized  it  much  more,  she  seems  almost  an  in 
habitant  of  heaven  sojourning  on  earth  for  a 
little  time." 

"  How  patient  she  is  ! " 

"  Yes,  Christianly  patient,"  responded  Guil- 
ford.  "  Ah  !  Miss  Leffingwell,  you  and  I  both 
know,  perhaps,  what  a  sick  bed  is,  unsancti- 
fied  by  religion.  When  Christ  supports  the 
fainting  form,  oh  !  how  changed  the  aspect  of 
all  things  !  Hager  without  Christ,  might  still 
present  a  sweet  image  of  patience,  but  with 
Him  she  is  able  not  only  to  bear,  but  to 
triumph  in  suffering." 

"Mr.  Coit,"  said  Maud,  in  a  low  voice, 
there  had  been  another  long  pause,  "you  are 
of  course  aware  of  the  change  in  my  brother's 
views." 

"Yes,  he  told  me  to-day,"  was  the  reply. 

"If  by  any  means  you  can  influence  my 
father,"  she  said,  and  hesitated. 

"  God's  grace  alone  can  do  that,"  he  replied  ; 
"  but  I  shall  leave  no  means  untried  to  effect 
a  reconciliation." 


DKOWNED.  307 

"  Father  has  threatened  to  draw  himself  en 
tirely  from  him — and — I  was  going  to  say, 
that — in  case — if  it  should  really  come  to  that, 
you  know — I  shall  feel  it  a  privilege  to  aid  my 
dear  brother.  This  I  can  do  in  the  best  way, 
perhaps,  by  giving  you  this  draft,"  and  she 
held  towards  him  a  check  of  five  hundred 
dollars. 

Miss  Leffingwell  I "  he  exclaimed.  She 
changed  color  under  his  steady  look. 

He  was  disappointed — delighted. 

"  I  have  a  perfect  right  to  do  what  I  please 
with  it,"  she  said  quietly,  though  she  trembled. 
"  It  is  a  gift  from  my  father,  and  he  never 
questions  me  about  the  use  to  which  I  put  my 
money " — she  started,  "  did  some  one  call 
me?" 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  shout,"  replied  Guil- 
ford,  still  holding  the  check,  still  too  bewil 
dered  to  know  what  to  decide.  "The  boats 
are  coming ;  we  hear  the  voices  from  them." 

"  No,  no  ! "  she  grew  pale,  "there  it  is  ! — a 
cry  !  can  it  be  my  brother  ?  Mr,  Coit,  can  it 


308  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


be  Merric  !    in  danger  !     Which  way  ?  where 
is  he  ?  oh  !  tell  me  !  " 

"  Take  this  till  I  see,"  said  Guilford,  giving 
her  the  check  and  starting  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  sound.  Yes,  there  was  no  mistaking 
that  appalling  cry,  the  fearful,  anguished, 
moaning  shriek  of  a  sinking  man.  The  boats 
were  drawing  faster,  impelled  by  the  sound ; 
Guilford  Coit  flew  like  an  arrow,  while  Maud 
sinking  against  a  tree,  wrung  her  hands  in 
helpless  anguish,  then  started  to  follow  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A     EE  STORATION. 

/HE  place  chosen  by  Merric,  in  which  to 
bathe,  was  a  retired  spot,  where  the 
shore  took  an  inward  curve,  and  for  some 
yards  the  gravelly  ground  shelved  down  grad 
ually  into  deep  water.  It  was  hidden  by 
stretches  of  land,  thickly  grown  with  trees 
from  the  main  body  of  the  river,  and  reached 
by  a  long  bend.  This  was  the  only  place 
where  the  course  of  the  river  was  so  far  in 
shore,  and  the  sweep  so  abrupt. 

Merric  had  gone  down  at  first,  not  intend 
ing  more  than  to  take  a  hurried  bath,  but  the 
invigorating  effect  of  the  water,  which,  being 
shaded,  was  icy  cold,  tempted  him  to  swim, 
and  he  was  soon  luxuriating  in  the  blue 
depths  at  some  distance  from  the  land. 

Idly  floating,  half  singing  to  himself,  he  lay 


309 


310  THE   MILL    AGENT. 


there,  when  suddenly  he  felt  his  limbs  drawn 
strangely  together  and  his  strength  forsake 
him.  He  essayed  to  strike  out,  but  in  vain.  A 
paralytic's  arms  would  have  been  as  much 
help  as  were  his  at  that  awful  time.  He  at 
tempted  still  to  float,  but  the  spasms  seemed 
to  throw  his  limbs  involuntarily,  and  he  found 
himself  sinking. 

Then  he  uttered  his  first  cry.  It  was  very 
hard  to  perish  thus  in  his  youth,  to  tread 
alone  these  deep  depths  and  no  friendly  hand 
near ;  to  feel  the  cold  waters  engulph  him  as 
it  were  forever.  Once  more,  and  yet  again, 
the  shriek  of  mortal  anguish  sounded,  then 
the  struggles  became  fainter,  the  trembling 
heart  took  hold  of  God ;  the  fair  white  face 
upturned  and  just  discernable,  the  fair  hair 
spread  out  like  the  tangled  meshes  of  the 
golden-hearted  lilies,  the  eyes  wild  and  yet 
tender,  uplifted  for  the  last  time,  these  the 
pitying,  yet  perhaps  triumphing  angels  saw, 
and  they  only. 

The  dread  roaring  that  had  confused  his 


A  RESTORATION.  311 

soul,  as  of  pent  up  waters  in  resounding  caves, 
hurling  themselves  against  a  thousand  rocky 
points,  had  subsided ;  the  gentle  flow  of  the 
waters  sounded  like  tinkling  melodies  that 
poured  gratefully  into  his  ears.  The  sky 
seemed  bending  close  above  him,  and  gates  of 
clouded  pearl  and  colors  of  splendor  dazzled 
his  failing  vision.  He  was  not  alone,  soft 
voices,  harmonies  of  more  than  earthly  beauty, 
faces  so  sweet  and  joyous  that  his  gaspings 
seemed  for  delights  he  could  not  express, 
these  were  with  him.  There  was  no  terror 
now,  no  fear  of  the  cold  depths ;  how  could 
there  be?  When  Guilford  reached  the  spot 
he  saw  afar  off  only  a  few  faint  ripples.  He 
shouted  as  he  threw  by  his  upper  garments. 
There  was  no  answering  sound.  Then  plung 
ing  in  he  shouted  again  to  the  boats ;  he  could 
hear  their  oars. 

On,  on  he  went.  Desperation  lent  new 
strength  to  his  arm ;  the  waters  were  hurled 
in  thick  clouds  of  spray  in  every  direction. 
The  boats  had  made  their  appearance. 


312  THE   MILL   AGENT. 

"Standby,"  shouted  Guilford,  making  a  line 
of  the  slow  circle,  "look  over  the  sides." 

On  the  shores  were  gathered  the  terrified 
women.  Colonel  Leffingwell  stood  among 
them,  his  gray  locks  in  disorder,  as  he  gave 
commands  or  uttered  hoarse  shouts.  Now 
here,  now  there,  his  arms  tossed  wildly,  offer 
ing  rewards  to  those  who  could  swim  (for  he 
could  not,)  begging  Guilford  for  the  love  of 
God  to  save  his  child,  his  only  boy,  the  glory 
of  his  old  age. 

Poor  father !  what  would  he  have  given  to 
recall  the  past  day  when  his  harsh  words  cut 
that  young  heart  like  a  sword ;  how  he  watch 
ed  every  motion  of  Guilford,  who,  straining 
and  panting,  utterly  forgetful  of  self,  swept 
the  waters  in  wide  swathes,  watching  for  the 
least  indication  of  the  whereabouts  of  his 
friend. 

Suddenly  he  disappeared.  Had  he  gone 
too?  No,  there  was  no  commotion  in  the 
boats.  O  !  what  a  tune  it  seemed !  those 
on  shore  scarcely  drew  breath;  Mary  was 


A   RESTORATIOX. 


A   RESTORATION.  313 


crouching  on  the  ground  moaning  bitterly,  with 
dry  eyes.  The  glad  sun,  the  glad  sky,  the 
feast,  the  frolic  were  all  forgotten;  it  was 
night  in  those  souls. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  shout.  Guilford  ap 
peared  ;  had  he  dragged  up  something  with 
him  ?  O  !  yes  ;  the  shuddering  sight  saw  the 
long,  dripping  hair,  and  a  groan  of  horror  burst 
forth  as,  lifting  it  higher,  the  arms  swayed 
helplessly.  They  drew  it  in  the  boat,  they 
laid  it  down  like  a  dead  thing.  Guilford 
wearily  climbed  by  his  side,  and  the  rowers 
bent  to  their  oars. 

The  boat's  keel  grated.  "Thank  God!" 
Guilford  said,  when  he  found  them  setting 
fire  to  piled  brushwood.  The  tent  also  had 
been  hastily  brought  along  and  arranged, 
blankets  and  everything  available  for  warmth, 
some  kind  and  thoughtful  heart  had  sent,  none 
other  than  Sarah,  who,  with  the  aid  of  her 
father,  had  made  all  things  ready. 

What  a  sob  it  was  that  smote  the  atmos 
phere  when  they  took  the  body  out.  No 


314  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


signs  of  life,  dead  arms  hanging  and  swaying, 
dead  eyes  wide  open ;  the  water  pouring  yet 
in  torrents.  Colonel  Leffiugwell  alone  was 
^silent.  His  lips  were  closed  as  if  they  were 
stone  ;  he  neither  spoke  nor  wept,  but  with  a 
look  of  self-accusation,  inexpressibly  awful, 
he  took  the  body  in  his  strong  embrace,  and 
bore  it  into  the  tent. 

"  He  is  dead,"  he  said,  laying  it  down,  with 
another  of  those  harsh,  dry  sobs  ;  "  he — is 
—dead ! " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  old  Mr. 
Church  as  he  proceeded  to  detect  some  signs 
of  life.  None  whatever  appeared. 

"Let him  betaken  home,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"No,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  en 
ergy,  "not  till  I  do  my  best  to  save  him. 
Give  me  the  hot  bottles,  and  leave  me  alone 
with  him  and  Mr.  Coit.  I  have  all  the  articles 
necessary  for  use  in  such  cases.  Do  not 
send  word  to  the  house  this  six  hours,  for  I 
promise  you  I  shall  not  give  him  up  till  then." 

Reluctantly  the   old   Colonel  left  the  tent 


A    RESTORATION.  315 


and  dispersed  the  crowd,  first  sending  some 
one  to  Rose  Hedge  to  watch  that  the  dreadful 
news  was  not  communicated  to  his  wile.  He 
had  no  faith  in  the  restoration,  and  as  he  was 
left  with  his  daughter,  he  raved  with  the  most 
frightful  imprecations.  Mary  could  not  calm 
him,  but  she  remained  near  him,  walking 
when  he  walked, 'and  when  he  flung  himself  to 
the  ground,  kneeling  beside  him. 

It  was  now  three  o'clock,  and  the  party 
were  to  remain  till  six.  But  all  inclination 
for  pleasure  had  deserted  the  rudest  and  most 
desperate .  Colonel  Leffingwell  had  made  him 
self,  by  his  frank  good  nature,  his  kindness  to 
the  people,  and  the  interest  he  took  in  then* 
welfare,  almost  an  idol.  Merric,  in  natural 
graces,  was  the  pattern  of  his  father.  Both 
possessed  that  rare  acquirement,  the  faculty  of 
at  once  inspiring  love  and  reverence.  Hence 
the  merry  group  could  enjoy  their  sports  no 
longer,  and  most  of  them  began  to  make  pre 
parations  to  return.  Guilford  sent  some  gen 
tle  message  to  reconcile  Hager,  to  a  longer  ab- 


316  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


sence  than  he  at  first  intended,  and  placed 
himself  under  the  orders  of  the  old  man. 

"  This  suspense  is  awful,"  said  the  Colonel, 
taking  out  his  watch,  observing  that  it  wanted 
but  a  minute  of  four.  "  For  one  hour  they 
have  been  over  him,  and  no  life  yet.  O  ! 
Merric,  my  son,  my  son  !  " 

"  Let  us  be  patient,  father,"  said  his  daugh 
ter.  She  had  been  sitting  pale,  cold  and  si 
lent,  lost  in  gloomy  thoughts. 

Another  hour  rolled  on,  and  still  another, 
yet  no  signs  of  returning  animation.  Guil- 
ford,  wearied  and  weak,  still  exerted  all  his 
remaining  strength  in  keeping  up  the  friction 
necessary  to  support  the  faintest  spark  of  life. 
The  Colonel  had  three  times  traversed  the  en 
tire  circle  of  the  belt  of  woods  in  which  they 
had  passed  a  day  so  eventful ;  now  he  present 
ed  himself  at  the  door  of  the  tent. 

"This  is  sheer  mummery,"  he  said,  wildly; 
"  I  will  not  have  you  do  this  longer ;  let  the 
poor  body  rest.  How  can  you  torture  it  so  ?" 

Guilford  saw  the  gleam  of  insanity  that 


A  KESTOKATION.  317 

kindled  his  face  ;  he  himself  had  almost  given 
up  hope  as  the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun  redden 
ed  the  canvas  sides  of  the  tent,  and  the  edges 
grew  gloomy  with  coming  twilight. 

"  Let  me  alone,"  said  the  old  man  sternly. 
"  I  told  you  I  should  work  over  him  for  six 
hours — aye  !  suppose  it  were  twelve  and  hope 
at  last.  Go  out,  Colonel,"  he  added,  more 
gently,  "you  are  not  fit  to  be  here.  Go  out 
and  don't  come  again  till  we  send  to  tell  you 
one  thing  or  the  other." 

"  But  the  way  I  treated  him  !  "  almost  sob 
bed  the  Colonel,  though  his  voice  was  husky, 
and  his  eyes  dry  and  glassy. 

"  Colonel,  you  had  better  not  remain  here 
longer,"  said  Guilford,  laying  his  hand  re 
spectfully  on  his  arm. 

"  Perhaps  not,  perhaps  not/'  said  Colonel 
Leffingwell. 

"  And — your  absence  may  occasion  com 
ment  at  home.  If  you  could  only  return  for 
a  little  while,  and  then — " 

"What!    without    him!    go    without    my 


318  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


boy?"  broke  in  the  Colonel,  abruptly,  "No, 
no ;  I  stay  by  till  he  goes  with  me,  dead  or 
alive."  Another  dry  sob. 

"  Then  you  will  stay  outside  the  tent.  You 
see  your  presence  unnerves  us  ;  we  cannot  do 
all  we  would  for  his  recovery."  ^ 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,  I  will  go,"  the  Colonel  said 
like  a  child,  and  he  passed  forth  into  the  dim 
ming  atmosphere. 

Mary  Leffingwell  and  Sarah  Church  sat  to 
gether  ;  both  were  silent.  Every  few  moments 
Sarah  responded  to  calls  in  the  tent,  taking 
water — whatever  was  required.  By  the  time 
it  grew  quite  dark,  Mary  was  persuaded  to  go 
home,  but  the  Colonel  remained.  The  fire 
was  still  fed  by  the  attendants,  and  its  bright 
flame  cast  a  brilliancy  over  every  object  near 
and  remote.  Several  of  the  town's  people 
were  present,  for  an  intense  and  heartfelt 
sympathy  reigned  in  all  Clifton  Locks. 

Little  Hager  had  wondered  more  than  once 
why  Guilford  did  not  come.  At  last  her 
mother  told  her  that  some  one  had  met  with 


A   KESTOKATION.  319 


an  accident,  (for  she  grew  very  restless)  and 
Guilford  was  stopping  to  help  them.  Then 
her  face  brightened ;  she  said  she  was  very 
glad,  for  who  would  help  as  well  as  he  ?  "  and 
besides,  mother,"  she  added,  "  if  it  is  serious, 
and  any  one  is  going  to  die,  you  know  he  can 
do  just  as  much  good  as  a  minister !  " 

So  the  shades  of  night  came  on,  and  it  grew 
intensely  dark.  Strangely  looked  that  little 
tent  glimmering  in  the  flame-light,  the  bowed 
figures  here  and  there,  the  groups  standing, 
walking,  talking,  wondering  what  the  result 
would  be.  Not  far  off,  by  a  short  cut,  was 
the  Colonel's  family  carriage,  waiting  to  re 
ceive  death  or  life.  The  horses  stood,  two 
black  shadows  in  the  darkness,  betraying  their 
presence  only  by  an  occasional  stamp  and 
whinney.  The  coachman  sat,  likewise  a  black 
shadow,  erect,  thoughtful,  it  might  be  fearful, 
for  sometimes  he  essayed  to  whistle,  but  the 
whistle  faded  as  if  the  darkness  had  shadowed 
it  also. 

At  last  it  was  nine  o'clock.     The  bereaved 


320  THE   MILL   AGEXT. 


father  had  not  spoken  for  hours,  and  there 
was  scarcely  a  movement  to  be  seen,  save  the 
black  figures  gliding  warily  within  the  tent, 
or  going  to  and  fro  from  there  to  the  fire. 

At  last  Guilford  came  out.  He  staggered 
almost  like  a  drunken  man  as,  meeting  some 
one,  he  asked  in  a  whisper,  "how  shall  we  tell 
him?" 

"  What !  then  there  is  no  hope  ?  " 

"  The  young  man  is  risen,"  said  Guilford 
solemnly,  laying  his  hand  heavily  on  the  shoul 
der  of  the  other,  as  if  for  support. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say — " 

w  Yes,  hush  I  be  cautious  ;  I  mean  to  say  he 
is  given  back  from  the  dead.  Fifteen  minutes 
ago  we  discovered  a  pulse  ;  one  minute  ago  he 
spoke  to  me — "  wholly  overcome,  Guilford 
laid  his  head  upon  the  arm  that  rested  on  the 
man's  shoulder,  and  burst  into  tears,  for  the 
fatigue,  anxiety,  and  constant  efforts  he  had 
put  forth  for  so  many  hours,  had  made  him  as 
weak  as  a  child. 

w  There'll  be   a  crying  time  all  round,  I 


A   RESTORATION.  321 


guess,"  said  the  man,  huskily.     It  beats  all  I 
ever  heard  of.     Look  here,  are  you  certain?" 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  said  Guilford,  "but  I  feel 
stronger  now  ;  I  will  go  to  the  Colonel,  I  will 
tell  him  as  cautiously  as  I  can." 

They  went  slowly  to  the  spot  where  the 
suffering  man  had  been  for  the  last  hour  seat 
ed.  The  fitful  fire-light  out  in  the  darkness 
shone  upon  his  face,  making  more  ghastly  its 
exceeding  pallor.  He  did  not  seem  to  hope,  or 
fear,  hardly  to  care. 

"Colonel,"  said  Guilford,  "you  must  be 
calm." 

The  old  man  sprang  to  his  feet.  O  !  what: 
a  difference  there  was  in  the  handsome,  erect, 
fastidious  figure,  the  whole  bearing  of  the 
Colonel,  as  he  stood  forth  before  this  great 
trial,  noble,  erect,  faultless, — and  the  droop 
ing,  stooping,  aged,  care-worn  aspect  he  wore 
at  this  moment. 

"  You  need  not  tell  me ; "  he  replied,  after  a 
few  fruitless  attempts  to  speak,  during  which 
the  dry  lips  came  together  and  apart  with 


322  THE   MILL  AGEXT. 


that  heavy,  sucking  sound  that  always  dis 
tinguishes  inward  grief.  "The  carriage  is 
here  ;  I  will  take  him  myself." 

"But,  dear  Colonel,  you  do  not  under 
stand." 

"  Not  understand,  not  understand  !  "  he  re 
iterated,  eagerly.  "  What  do  you  mean?" 

"Your  son  lives." 

The  Colonel  caught  his  arm,  led  him  to 
the  fire,  gazed  wildly  in  his  face,  laughed 
more  wildly,  then  seemed  as  if  turned  into 
stone  again. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  succeeded?" 
'he  asked,  with  livid  lips. 

w  I  do ;  we  have,  with  the  help  of  God,  re 
stored  him  to  life,"  was  Guilford's  reply. 

The  Colonel  gave  one  glance  heavenward, 
then  fell  on  his  knees.  Slowly  lifting  his 
clasped  hands  with  an  expression  that  in  its 
intensity  was  fearful,  he  cried,  "God  of  heav 
en  and  earth,  for  this  unmerited  blessing,  for 
this  wonderful  miracle,  for  this  answer  to  a 
sinner's  prayers,  I  devote  myself  to  thee ;  I 


A   RESTORATION.  323 


devote  my  children  to  thee,  souls  and  bodies, 
eternally.  Amen  !  Now  take  me  to  him." 

He  had  risen.  Maud  stood  weeping  by  his 
side.  Unable  to  bear  the  suspense  at  home, 
she  had  driven  again  to  the  woods ;  the  Col 
onel  placed  his  arm  around  her  tenderly,  and 
kissed  her. 

He  was  so  quiet,  so  thoughtful !  He  only 
drew  a  long  breath  as  he  entered  the  tent,  as 
if  his  heart  were  surcharged,  and  bent,  like 
one  bending  over  an  infant,  above  his  son. 

w  O  !  Merric,  my  boy !  my  boy !  forgive 
your  old  father ! " 

There  were  few  dry  eyes  there,  few  !  there 
were  none.  A  feeble  response  came ;  the  words 
w  I  am  so  glad  for  you  I "  were  faintly  heard. 
Outside  the  men  were  forming  a  litter.  They 
were  so  overjoyed,  they  were  so  excited,  that 
they  ran  hither  and  thither  without  method, 
almost  knocking  each  other  down.  Presently 
out  in  the  moonlight  they  brought  him,  well 
wrapped  up,  but  helpless  as  an  infant,  and 
every  heart  there  put  up  a  prayer  for  him ; 
some  of  them  sobbed  outright. 


324  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


"  Guilford  Coit,  and  you,  Mr.  Church,  must 
ride  in  the  carriage  with  my  boy  and  me. 
Mary,  darling,  take  Sarah  in  your  carriage  ;  be 
sisters  to  each  other ;  God  bless  you  both ! 
I  am  nearly  crazed  with  happiness." 

And  so  the  day  closed  ;  closed  with  prayer 
and  thanksgiving,  closed  with  tears  of  joy, 
for  it  was  known  thoughout  Clifton  Locks  that 
the  Colonel's  son  was  saved.  The  men 
marched  in  a  body  almost  to  Rose  Hedge, 
and  there  they  played  upon  the  viol  and  flute, 
upon  whatever  instruments  they  could  muster, 
and  the  harmony,  though  none  of  the  best, 
softened  by  the  distance,  sounded  sweet  as 
angel  music.  Later,  a  carriage  dashed  up  to 
the  door.  It  was  the  young  doctor,  all  in  a 
tremor,  just  from  the  death-bed  of  his  sister? 
with  whom  he  had  been  through  the  day,  ten 
miles  off.  Guilford  rode  back  with  him  to 
the  door  of  the  tavern,  stole  one  look  at  little 
Hager,  who  justthenwas  happily  sleeping,  and 
hurried  to  his  bed  a  wearied  but  a  happy  man. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  COLONEL'S  EESOLVE  PUT  INTO  PRACTICE. 
/|    HE  morning  sun  stole  into  the  plain  lit- 


ft 


tie  chamber  occupied  by  the  two  young 
men — Guilford  and  Austin.  Guilford  had 
slept  soundly  long  past  his  usual  hour  of  ris 
ing  ;  he  awoke  with  a  start,  heard  the  rushing 
of  water,  and  suddenly  that  fearful  scene  of 
yesterday  swept  across  his  vision.  How 
pleasant  the  sun  seemed,  now  he  thought  that 
Merric  was  not  dead,  now  that  he  saw,  as  if  in 
a  vision,  the  whole  train  of  circumstances  that 
were  likely-  to  result  from  this  direct  and 
striking  providence.  Again  the  rushing  sound 
of  water.  Guilford  turned  his  head ;  a  keen 
pain  smote  his  heart  as  he  saw  Austin,  plung 
ing  both  hands  into  the  deep  basin  and  throw 
ing  the  water  over  his  face,  his  throat,  his 
bosom.  Poor  Austin ! 

325 


326  THE  MILL  AGENT. 


"What  time  is  it?" 

The  young  man  wheeled  round  like  light 
ning,  showing  red  eyes,  a  clouded^ace,  disor 
dered  hair  from  which  the  water  dripped. 

"  Ha  !  you  awake  Guilford  ?  I  feel  like  a 
miserable  dog  this  morning.  You  and  I  have 
both  overslept  ourselves." 

"It  doesn't  matter  much ;  after  yesterday,  I 
think  we  ought  to  be  excused  to-day.  The 
woods  party  didn't  agree  with  you,  then." 

"The  champagne,  you  mean.  I  tell  you 
what,  old  fellow,  the  next  tune  they  ask  me 
to  take  champagne,  and  I  take  it,  they'll  know 
it,  I  guess." 

"  I  knew  it  would  hurt  you,"  said  Guilford. 

"It  made  me  a  fool — a  miserable  fool. 
They  all  saw  it,  they  all  knew  it ;  I  shall  be 
ashamed  to  show  my  face  among  them." 

"  What  I  was  afraid  of,"  said  Guilford,  "was 
the  influence  of  your  example  upon  that  old 
man.  I  would  not  have  drank  before  him, 
not  if  wealth  and  even  reputation  had  been  at 
etake.  He  did  nobly,  however ;  his  skill  and 


THE  COLONEL'S  RESOLVE.  327 

his  science  saved  poor  Merric ;  I  don't  know 
what  the  Colonel  will  do  to  show  his  grati 
tude." 

•"  Guilford  Coit,  I  honor  you,"  said  Austin, 
in  his  impulsive  way ;  "  I'd  give  a  thousand 
dollars  if  I  had  your  resolute  will." 

"  Would  you  ?  You  can  get  it  for  nothing," 
said  Guilford,  earnestly. 

"  O  !  yes,  I  know  what  you  mean,  but  I 
don't  believe  it ;  the  principle  must  be  planted 
in  the  heart  by  nature." 

"  By  grace,"  reiterated  Guilford. 

"  Pshaw  ! "  and  Austin  turned  away.  w  I 
tell  you  it  is  in  your  nature  to  deny  yourself 
a  thing  that  you  think  will  injure  you.  By 
nature,  you  can  control  yourself  in  every 
respect  better  than  I  can,  who  am  a  creature 
of  impulse." 

"  So  was  I  once,"  said  Guilford. 

"  Never  ! "  you  might  as  well  tell  me  -  the 
moon  was  a  cheese  and  expect  me  to  believe 
it,  as  expect  me  to  believe  that.  The  fact  is, 
you  never  knew  yourself,  Guilford,  if  you  tell 


328  THE  MILL  AGENT'. 


me  that  you  are  not  naturally  a  self-reliant 
and  resolute  man." 

"  All  I  am  I  owe  to  the  grace  of  God,"  said 
Guilford,  resolutely. 

K  Guilford,  you're  enough  to  drive  a  saint 
mad,"  said  Austin.  "You  are  under  a  delu 
sion." 

"  O,  my  friend  !  "  exclaimed  Guilford,  and 
along  his  voice  ran  a  passionate  entreaty,  "how 
applicable  are  the  Saviour's  words  to  your 
case,  'and  ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye 
may  have  life.'  You  say  I  am  under  a  delu 
sion,  happy  delusion,  then,  that  makes  me  a 
child  of  God  and  an  heir  of  heaven.  Blessed 
delusion  !  that  enables  me  to  put  aside  the  sin 
that  easily  besets  me,  and  glory  in  denial ; 
holy  delusion !  that  gives  me  longings  for 
purity,  inside  cleanliness,  a  nearness  with  my 
Saviour,  delight  in  prayer.  O,  Austin  !  how 
can  you  persist  in  staying  away  from  God?  " 
There  were  tears  in  his  very  voice. 

Guilford,  after  his  morning  devotions,  hur 
ried  to  Hager's  room.  She  had  been  in  great 


THE  COLONEL'S  RESOLVE.  329 


pain,  the  nurse  said,  but  was  so  patient !  The 
fair  young  girl  looked  saintly  as  she  lay  there, 
white,  too  weak  even  to  reach  her  hand  out  to 
the  friend  she  loved  so  well,  but  still  smiling, 
still  willing  to  suffer  her  appointed  lot,  still 
looking  up,  in  much  faith,  hoping  and  trusting. 
It  could  not  be  called  a  sad  sight,  though  it 
was  enough  to  affect  one  to  tears.  Neither  was 
it  very  sorrowful  to  know  that  the  fabric  in 
the  hands  of  the  nurse  was  destined  to  wrap 
the  lovely  limbs  when  they  were  clay-cold. 
Guilford  looked  upon  her  as  half  angel  al 
ready.  So  sweet  a  resignation  to  the  will  of 
God  he  had  never  seen  before. 

K  It  almost  makes  me  cry  to  think  how 
kind  everybody  is,"  said  Hager,  large  tears 
shining  round  in  her  eyes.  "  Yesterday,  Mrs. 
Leffingwell  sent  me  such  beautiful  bouquets, 
oh,  such  beauties  !  look  at  them.  She  sent 
me  jellies,  too  ;  everybody  is  so  kind  ! " 

"  Everybody  loves  you,  Hager ;  do  you  feel 
in  low  spirits  this  morning,  darling  ?  "  asked 
Guilford,  seeing  a  change  pass  over  her  face. 


330  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


"  If  it  wasn't  so  hard  for  poor  father,"  she 
-quivered. 

"We  must  pray  to  God  that  he  may  be 
•willing,  my  child ;  that  ho  will  give  him  con- 
'solation  in  the  thought  that  he  will  see  you 
again." 

"If  it  might  only,  might  only  be  !  "  she  said 
with  unusual  emphasis,  for  her.  "  O,  how  I 
pity  father !  I  was  his  poor  little  all,"  she 
added,  with  such  pathos,  the  tears  running 
down  her  face.  Don't  you  see  how  changed 
he  is  ?  Don't  you  see  how  thin  he  grows  ? 
What  can  I  do  to  make  him  happier?  I  can't 
bear  to  feel  that  he  is  so  unreconciled.  Only 
think  !  nurse  told  me  this  morning  about  Mr. 
Merric ;  poor  father !  it  will  only  make  him 
worse  ;  ain't  you  afraid  it  will  ?  " 

"He  ought  to  be  very  thankful  for  every 
blessed  providence,"  said  Guilford. 

M  Yes,  so  he  ought ;  but — poor  father  !  poor 
father  !  "  her  words  died  away  in  a  moan. 

"  Do  coax  her  to  take  a  little  of  this  arrow 
root,"  said  the  nurse,  handing  a  small  saucer. 


THE  COLONEL'S  RESOLVE.  331 


"By  and  by,  Mr.  Coit,  when  I  get  over 
this,"  said  Hager,  chokingly ;  he  had  never 
seen  her  so  moved  before. 

"Now,  Hager,  now;  it  will  do  you  good, 
my  darling." 

She  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  implored,  but 
he  was  firm.  She  tasted  the  food,  it  strength 
ened  her. 

"  Talk  to  me  about  Jesus,"  she  whispered. 
"I  shall  be  better  by  and  by.  The  doctor 
came  very  late  ;  he  said  it  was  almost  certain 
I  should  live  over  Sunday ;  I  know  I  shall." 

So  Guilford  sat  and  talked  till  the  hour  for 
work.  She  took  his  hand  in  her  little  white, 
wasted  fingers  as  she  said,  "how  kind  and 
patient  you  are,  Mr.  Coit !  " 

He  could  hardly  answer  except  with  a 
smile  and  a  loving  pressure  of  the  hand. 

Going  out  he  met  the  landlord,  who  stood, 
bent  and  despairing,  near  the  door  of  Hager's 
room. 

"Where's  the  justice  of  God,  Mr.  Coit?" 
the  latter  cried,  with  a  trembling  voice,  "  that 


332  THE   MILL  -AGENT. 


my  one  lamb  should  be  taken  and  his  left,  not 
his  only  one,  either.  Is  Colonel  Leffingwell 
any  better  than  I  am  ?  " 

Guilford  recoiled  a  little.  The  question 
had  taken  him  by  surprise. 

"  I  say,  where's  justice,  the  justice  ! " 
whispered  the  man,  more  hoarsely. 

"  God  only  can  answer,"  replied  Guilford, 
solemnly. 

"  But  he  wont ;  "  retorted  the  tavern  keep 
er.  "  O  !  Mr.  Coit,  I  wish  you  had  never 
come  here,  indeed  I  do ;  somehow  it  seems 
to  be  all  wrapped  up  with  you.  You've  drawn 
her  heart  from  her  poor  father,  oh  !"  and  he 
broke  down  into  a  wild  grief  that  would  hear 
no  word  and  hurried  from  the  hall. 

It  was  very  sad  to  Guilford,  who  was  doing 
all  that  mortal  man  might  do  for  the  comfort 
of  the  child,  for  the  good  of  all,  and  who 
would  willingly  have  borne  the  sharp  thralls 
of  the  bruised  body  to  help  that  poor,  pale 
sufferer,  but  he  comforted  himself  with  the 
thought  that  God  knew  all  about  it.  That 
was  enough  for  him. 


THE  COLONEL'S  RESOLVE.  333 


The  next  hour  was  a  brighter  one,  for  at 
the  door,  sitting  erect  as  ever  on  his  noble 
gray,  was  Colonel  Leffingwell. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  said,  in  a  subdued 
voice,  and  as  he  dismounted  he  wrung  Guil- 
ford's  hand,  the  ecstacy  of  gratitude  made  his 
eyes  shine. 

"Lead  my  horse  to  the  stable,"  he  said  to 
the  hostler.  "  Mr.  Coit,  I  wish  you  would  walk 
a  short  distance  with  me ;  never  mind  the 
office  ;  you  shan't  go  to  the  office  to-day,  sir, 
no  sir,  not  to-day. 

"  Mr.  Coit,"  he  continued,  drawing  the 
young  man's  arm  through  his,  "  our  Merric  is 
himself  again,  only  a  little  weak,  as  is  to  be 
expected,  but  bright  as  ever.  Now,  I've  been 
somewhat  hard  on  you,  because  your  religious 
views  didn't  quite  suit  me,  but  I'm  an  altered 
man,  and  I  feel  as  if  you  had  a  right  to  my 
endless  gratitude.  You  want  reforms  here, 
Mr.  Coit,  I've  seen  it  for  some  time,  and,  I'm 
not  going  to  stand  in  your  way.  I  shall  shut 
the  bar  up,  to-morrow — "  Guilford  gave  a 


334  THE   MILL    AGENT. 


glad  start — w  and  after  this  I'm  heart  and  hand 
with  you  in  all  your  good  works.  I  may 
even  come  to  be  a  Christian,  myself,"  he  added, 
hesitating  a  little. 

"  God  grant  it,  sir,"  replied  Guilford,  with 
animation. 

They  had  walked  rapidly,  and  were  fast 
nearing  the  little  cottage  where  Sarah  and 
her  father  lived. 

"  I  have  have  an  errand  here,"  said  the  Col 
onel,  *  how  prettily  they  have  arranged  things 
about  the  place  !  Come  in  for  a  moment,  Mr. 
Coit." 

The  sun  shone  redly  on  the  painted  floor, 
through  the  little  white  curtains  of  spotted 
muslin.  Sarah  was  just  preparing  breakfast; 
her  father  was  drawing  something  on  paper, 
attached  to  a  small  frame.  They  were  both 
glad  to  receive  their  visitors,  and  apologized 
for  the  lateness  of  their  rising. 

"Don't  say  a  word,"  said  the  Colonel,  look 
ing  at  the  fine  white  head  of  the  old  man,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes. 


THE  COLONEL'S  KESOLVE.  335 


w  Young  Mr.  Leffingwell  is  getting  along, 
of  course,"  said  Mr.  Church,  laying  aside  his 
implements. 

"  Thanks  to  you,  my  friend ;  yes,"  returned 
the  Colonel,  with  much  emotion.  "Miss 
Sarah  "  he  added,  "  I  can't  make  a  long  story 
of  it.  You  asked  me  once  if  I  could  sell  this 
house  to  you  and  take  the  pay  in  instalments. 
My  dear  child,  there  are  the  deeds ;  they  are 
made  out  in  your  father's  name,  present  them 
to  him  with  my  compliments ;  the  house  is 
yours  with  the  land  about  it." 

Sarah  stood  looking  at  the  folded  papers  in 
her  hand ;  the  old  man  rose  from  his  seat, 
gazing  at  them  as  vaguely  as  she ;  Guilford, 
mute  with  astonishment,  glad  from  his  heart, 
smiled  at  them  all ;  Sarah  was  the  first  to  break 
the  silence. 

w  Did  I  understand — "  she  began  timidly. 

"  I  must  go  now,  Miss  Sarah.  Mr.  Church, 
good  morning,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  abrupt 
ly  ;  w  come  Coit,  there's  lots  of  business  on 
hand,"  and  away  went  the  Colonel  purposely 


336  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


to  avoid  a  scene,  for  he  felt  his  own  eyes 
moist. 

"  Father,  the  house  is  ours,"  murmured 
Sarah,  in  a  bewildered  way ;  "  the  house  ours, 
and  we  not  to  pay  a  cent.  O  !  father,  father  ! 
we  are  rich  !  so  rich  !  " 

"  Let  me  see  the  papers,  daughter,"  said 
the  old  man,  his  hand  trembling,  his  manner 
fluttered.  Yes,  the  fact  was  apparent,  he  was 
once  more  a  land  owner,  he  had  nobly  earned 
the  endowment,  but  he  did  not  think  of  that, 
only  to  be  grateful. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a  youth 
ful  vigor  had  been  infused  into  his  frame, 
*  now  I  can  walk  erect  again ;  now  I  can  take 
my  place  among  men ;  now  I  can  give  my 
time  to  my  invention,  and  my  dear  girl,  the 
darling  and  comfort  of  my  life  shall  not  toil 
and  delve  in  the  factory,  in  the  midst  of  that 
cruel  machinery." 

M  Sarah,"  he  said  a  few  moments  after,  as 
the  young  girl  moved  about  like  one  in  a 
dream,  "  after  all  we  owe  it,  under  God,  to 


THE  COLOXEL'S  RESOLVE.  337 

that  noble  young  fellow,  our  mill  agent.  I 
am  positive  that  no  other  person  could  have 
the  same  influence  over  me,  and  where  would 
old  drunken  Church  have  been  to-day,  but 
for  him?  Who  would  have  called  on  the 
trembling  old  dram-drinker  to  restore  a 
drowned  man  to  consciousness?  God  bless 
him." 

Sarah  said  the  words,  "God  bless  him !" 
after  him,  very  softly,  but  why  did  her  lip 
quiver  ?  Ah  !  her  life's  nobler  lesson  she  had 
yet  to  learn — to  sacrifice  even  her  heart's  love 
if  heaven  required. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  NEW    ORDER   OF   THINGS. 

£J  HE  hush  of  a  new-born  Sabbath  broods 
Vi^  in  the  air.  The  fields  steeped  in  sun 
shine  look  their  gladness,  the  trees  stand  rich 
fruited  and  the  grain  bends  with  its  weight  of 
blessings. 

Clifton  Locks  never  saw  such  a  revelation 
as  the  coming  hours  will  bring.  The  news 
has  gone  far  and  wide,  there  is  to  be  service, 
real  preaching  in  the  great  hall  of  the  old 
tavern.  Everything  is  arranged,  and  Chris 
tians  who  have  heard  the  news  for  miles 
around,  will  flock  to  the  place.  There  is  no 
longer  a  bar  in  the  Saint  tavern.  The  child 
Hager  has  prevailed,  and  the  evil  spirits  are 
thrown  out,  never  to  be  reinstated.  The 
tavern-keeper  has  Become  more  quiet  in  his 
grief,  through  the  ministrations  of  little  Hager. 


A    NEW   ORDER   OF   THINGS.  339 


It  may  be  he  sees,  dimly,  God's  hand  in  the 
cloud. 

There  will  be  a  great  gathering  at  the 
tavern.  The  gay  beauties  and  the  reckless 
revellers  of  Clifton  Locks,  as  they  array  them 
selves  for  the  appointed  time,  move  with 
quieter  mien,  and  put  aside  their  brighter  col 
ors.  At  every  breakfast  table  the  matter  is 
discussed.  It  is  wondered  if  the  Colonel  will 
be  there  !  how  the  Colonel  will  feel  about  it ; 
if  the  Colonel  will  give  any  more  great  parties  ? 
if  the  dance  will  be  turned  into  a  prayer-meet 
ing?  etc.,  etc. 

Meanwhile  Hager  seems  stronger  to-day 
than  at  any  other  time  during  her  illness. 
Her  whole  being  is  irradiated  with  a  beautiful 
light,  her  folded  hands  are  whiter  than  the 
robes  she  wears,  there  is  peace  written  upon 
the  calm,  glad  brow.  Her  mother  has  all 
things  in  readiness,  the  snowy  handkerchief, 
the  bright  little  shawl  to  throw  over  her  white 
dress,  the  slippers  she  wore  at  the  last  dance. 
Beside  them  is  an  offering  from  Mary  Leffing- 


340  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


well,  of  fair,  bright  flowers.  She  gave  them 
to  Austin  Grande  that  morning,  saying,  "  they 
arc  for  our  Hager."  He,  as  he  received  them, 
stood  a  moment  silent. 

"  After  all,"  he  whispered,  "  Guilford  Coit 
is  a  man !  "  he  meant  much  by  that  little 
word. 

"  I  wish  there  were  more  like  him.'* 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  there  were,"  he  cried,  al 
most  with  passion,  "though"  he  added,  turn 
ing  aside,  w  he  gains  all  hearts,  and  poor  sin 
ners  like  me  must  go  begging  for  love.  I 
ought  to  hate  him." 

"  Austin."  He  glanced  up — in  that  minute, 
quicker  than  the  lightning's  flash,  a  revela 
tion  was  given  to  him.  I  shall  not  say  what 
it  was,  but  Austin  Grande,  the  one  great  fear 
of  his  heart  removed,  walked  back  to  the 
tavern  on  air.  He  was  on  the  threshold  of 
Doubting  Castle  now,  looking  outward  and 
upward. 

Meantime  Guilford  sat  in  the  room  with 
Hager,  whose  beaming  eyes,  softened  through 


A  NEW   ORDER   OF   THINGS.  341 


absence  of  pain,  deep  with  the  light  of  love 
and  trust  often- wandered  to  him. 

Tristam  Saint  was  there,  watching  every 
sweet  look  of  his  child.  He  was  still  bitter 
towards  Guilford,  for  in  the  depth  of  his  an 
guish,  he  felt  that  he  had  taken  his  place  in 
the  heart  of  the  innocent  girl. 

"  Father  !  "  said  Hager,  he  came  towards 
her. 

"  Do  you  think  if  I  got  well  it  would  make 
you  a  Christian  ?  " 

K I  could  not  help  it,"  half  sobbed  the  man. 
"  I  don't  want  you  to  die,  little  Hager."  Hul- 
da  sighed  and  thought  of  the  time  he  had  said, 
so  impiously,  "I  wont  give  her  up,  even  to 
God." 

"  But  father,  I  might  not  stay  with  you  if  I 
got  well."  It  was  innocently  spoken,  but  like 
a  flash  came  a  conviction  over  the  old  man's 
heart,  as  his  eyes  met  those  of  the  mill  agent. 
The  latter  started  from  his  seat,  looking  out 
of  the  window.  "  The  people  are  coming," 
he  said ;  "  now  be  brave  and  calm,  Hager." 


342  THE   MILL  AGENT. 


Yes,  ill  throngs  along  the  beautiful  roads  of 
Clifton  Locks.  The  old  and  the  young,  the 
virtuous  and  the  vicious  were  there ;  the 
theme  on  every  tongue  the  approaching  ser 
vices.  It  was  something  they  had  never 
thought  of  in  their  worldly  supineness  and 
frivolity ;  preaching  in  that  place.  Dancing, 
gaming,  sporting,  parading,  all  these  were 
familiar  things,  but  preaching  was  a  novelty, 
and  to  many,  nothing  more.  The  minister 
came  early  and  was  ushered  into  Hager's 
room.  He  and  Hager  were  father  and  child 
in  a  moment.  He  was  startled  by  the  ex 
treme  etherialization  of  the  saint-like  creature. 
His  voice  choked  as  he  saw  her  lying  there 
in  her  mother's  arms  so  white  and  patient,  the 
long,  fair  curls  that  Sarah  had  been  twining 
round  her  fingers  pushed  back  from  the 
temples. 

"Can  you  bear  it?"  he  asked,  "you  look 
very  weak." 

"  But  my  heart  is  strong,"  was  the  sweet 
reply.  w  Christ  will  fold  me  in  his  arms,  just 
as  mother  does  now." 


A   NEW   ORDER   OF    THINGS.  343 

"Here  is  a  sermon,"  thought  the  good  man, 
"better  than  I  shall  preach." 

In  a  large  cushioned  chair,  near  the  ex 
temporised  pulpit,  Hager  was  carefully  seated. 
The  silence  was  broken  by  a  low  murmur,  as 
this  last,  greatest  blessing  filled  her  blue  eyes 
with  tears  of  gratitude.  Who  could  wonder 
that  even  strong  young  men  broke  down,  and 
here  and  there  could  be  heard  an  audible  sob  ? 
To  see  her  sitting  there  in  her  feebleness,  the 
light  of  a  celestial  atmosphere  folding  about 
her,  was  it  not  enough  to  draw  tears,  even 
from  the  most  hardened  eyes  ? 

Will  it  be  thought  strange  if  here  I  write 
down  the  words  of  that  sweet  song,  by  Chris 
tians  sung  wherever  the  word  of  light  is 
known  ?  For  this  was  what  they  sang  that 
blessed  morning. 

"  Go  preach  my  gospel,"  saith  the  Lord, 

Bid  the  whole  earth  my  grace  receive; 
Explain  to  them  my  sacred  word, 
Bid  them  believe,  obey  and  live. 

"  I'll  make  my  great  commission  known; 

And  ye  shall  prove  my  gospel  true, 
By  all  the  works  that  I  have  done, 
And  all  the  wonders  ye  shall  do. 


344  THE   MILL  AGEKT. 

"  Go,  heal  the  sick,  go  raise  the  dead, 

Go  cast  out  devils  in  my  name : 
Nor  let  my  prophets  be  afraid 
Tho'  Greeks  reproach  and  Jews  blaspheme. 

"  While  thus  ye  follow  my  commands 

I'm  with  you  till  the  world  shall  end; 
All  power  is  trusted  to  my  hands, 
I  can  destroy  and  can  defend." 

Those  who  were  looking  towards  Hager — 
and  they  were  not  few,  observed  a  singular 
light  play  over  her  features,  as  the  third  verse 
was  given  out,  line  by  line.  A  smile,  a  lift 
ing  of  the  eyes,  a  suffusion  that  for  one  mo 
ment  made  the  cheeks  crimson,  then  a  gentle 
sinking  back  as  if  the  emotion  had  exhausted 
her. 

Then  followed  a  dead  silence.  There  was 
communing  with  hearts,  there  was  struggling 
with  conscience.  Many  made  the  honest  re 
solve  to  do  better  for  the  future.  Tim  Col 
lins,  the  only  support  of  his  widowed  mother, 
who  had  been  apparently  going  to  destruction, 
began  from  that  holy  day  the  work  of  reforma 
tion.  Nelly  Hanfort,  of  whom  ruin  was  pre 
dicted,  and,  poor  girl,  she  stood  nearer  to  the 


A  NEW   ORDER   OF  THINGS.  345 

brink  than  any  one  there  even  dreamed,  saw 
suddenly,  the  pit  yawning  beneath  her  feet, 
and  started  back  in  time.  One  step  more, 
and  I  shudder  to  think  of  the  thing  she  would 
have  been.  Thank  God !  that  effort  saved 
her.  A  little  group  gathered  about  Hager, 
who  had  waited  till  the  minister  came  down. 
He  bent  to  her  pale  lips,  lifted  himself  and 
looked  incredulous. 

w  Mr.  Coit,"  she  said,  holding  her  hand  out 
to  him,  "  let  me  tell  you  the  good  news,  I 
am  going  to  get  well.  Are  you  glad?" 

"  He  gazed  at  her  much  moved ;  he  could 
not  speak,  could  not  dash  her  hopes,  and  yet, 
could  not  believe. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  asked  softly, 
"  what  that  line  in  the  hymn  was, 

'  Go — heal  the  sick,  go  raise  the  dead,' 

I  lifted  my  heart  in  prayer,  and  I  said,  O, 
Lord  God  !  if  thou  hast  anything  for  me  to 
do,  and  if  it  will  help  my  dear  father  to  be 
lieve,  heal  me.  At  that  moment,  a  strange 
strength  came  to  me,  I  cannot  describe  it,  it 


346  THE   MILL  AGENT. 

was  something  so  new,  and  I  felt  then  that 
God  would  let  me  live  to  comfort  my  dear 
mother  and  my  dear  father." 

Here  Tristam  broke  down  with  a  loud  cry, 
and  fell  sobbing  on  his  knees  at  her  side. 

w  O,  my  lamb  !  "  said  her  mother,  her  face 
beaming  with  holy  joy,  "  am  I  so  blessed  as 
to  keep  you  a  little  longer  ?  " 

But  why  attempt  to  express  the  delight  and 
awe  that  thrilled  the  assembly  ?  Kather  give 
glory  to  God,  that  he  condescends  sometimes 
to  display  his  power  as  in  the  olden  time  when 
he  caused  the  blind  to  see,  the  lame  to  walk, 
and  the  deaf  to  hear  his  blessed  gospel.  The 
wonderful  news  spread  rapidly.  Hager  was 
still  weak,  still  passive  in  the  hands  of  her 
friends,  but  the  surprise  of  the  doctor  when  he 
met  her  was  very  evident.  Her  pulse  he  said 
had  not  been  so  strong  for  weeks,  and  he  lis 
tened  as  incredulously  as  others  had  to  the 
simple  story  of  her  faith." 

There  must  be  power  in  this  religion  if 
what  she  says  is  not  the  phantasy  of  disease," 


A   NEW   ORDER   OF   THINGS.  347 


he  whispered  aside  to  Austin  Grande,  who 
also  wondered  with  the  rest.  "  Hager  is  evi 
dently  a  new  being.  I  find  the  dangerous 
symptoms  are  gone." 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Grande,  there's  something  in  all  this  I 
can't  understand,  can  you?  " 

"I  confess  my  inability,"  replied  Austin 
Grande. 

"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His 
only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 
in  Him  should  not  perish  but  have  everlasting 
life,"  said  a  deep  voice  near  them. 

It  was  Guilford  Coit. 

Both  the  doctor  and  Austin  were  silent. 
Austin  was  evidently  ill  at  ease  and  struggling 
with  pride. 

"  Come  both  of  you  into  the  service  of  the 
Master,"  said  Guilford  after  a  solemn  pause. 

"  Guilford,  I  am  convinced,"  exclaimed 
Austin,  his  stubbornness  melting,  "if  there  is 
any  hope  for  such  a  wretched  doubter  as  I  am, 
pray  for  me." 


348  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

"  Pray  for  yourself,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
Guilford,  tenderly.  "  He  never  casts  out  those 
who  come  to  him  in  brokenness  of  spirit ;  he 
is  waiting  to  bless  you  now,  pray  for  your 
self." 

"  God  helping  me,  I  will,"  said  Austin, 
humbly,  for  now  that  he  had  made  some  little 
advance  towards  a  better  life,  his  nature  grew 
less  adamantine,  he  felt  as  if  there  were  gen 
tle  influences  surrounding  him. 


CHAPTER  XXH. 

GOOD      TIDINGS. 

gjl  /  EADEE,  my  labor  of  love  is  ended.  This 
/•^v  story  as  may  have  occurred  to  you,  is  no 
fiction,  but  the  relation  of  events,  which, 
many  of  them,  took  place  in  a  New  England 
village,  and  are  still  told  with  tears  and 
thanksgiving.  Let  me  here  give  a  letter  from 
Merric  Leffingwell,  while  he  was  at  college, 
and  preparing  to  graduate  with  deserved 
honor. 
"  MY  FRIEND  GUILFOKD,  — 

You  know,  of  course,  that  I  am  almost  through, 
and  ready  for  Clifton  Locks.  Dear  Clifton  Locks  ! 
How  I  long  to  see  its  hills  and  valleys  once  more  ! 
Your  news  of  the  great  revival  at  the  mills,  rejoiced 
my  heart  more  than  tongue  can  tell ;  may  the  good 
work  spread ! 

I  was  thinking  the  other  night,  over  old  times, 
and  little  Hager,  blessed  little  Hager  !  What  means 
doth  the  Lord  work  !  Who  would  have  thought  that 
the  little,  quiet  creature,  so  retiring  as  almost  to  be 
unnoticed,  would  have  been  honored  with  so  dis 
tinguished  a  part  in  this  great  reformation  ?  And  how 
almost  miraculous  her  "restoration!  I  have  often 
thought  of  the  similarity  between  our  condition — I, 

349 


350  THE   MILL   AGENT. 


rescued  from  a  watery  grave,  and  brought  to  life  when 
apparently  dead — she  taken  from  the  very  borders  of 
the  tomb  and  led  up  to  new  health  and  a  new  experi 
ence,  through  the  mercy  of  God. 

Above  all  things  was  I  glad  to  hear  that  Tristam 
Saint  had  given  his  heart  to  the  Lord  Jesus.  He  has 
had  a  long  and  a  hard  discipline,  but  he  will  make  all 
the  firmer  Christian. 

So  old  father  Goldby  has  gone  home?  the  dear 
old  man  !  Who  knows  how  much  the  great  work  may 
be  owing  to  his  silent  influence.  Mary  writes  me  that 
old  Mr.  Church  is  likely  to  make  a  fortune  with  his 
patent.  I  am  very  glad.  Nor  was  I  surprised  to 
hear  the  news  about  you  and  Hager.  I  wish  you  joy 
of  so  sweet  a  bride.  She  was  my  boyish  ideal  of 
beauty,  but  she  never  knew  it,  and  that  is  all  past. 
I  shall  like  Austin  Grande  for  a  brother-in-law, 
famously.  May  your  union  and  his  be  prosperous  and 
happy. 

Think  of  the  change  !  Thank  God  for  it !  Clifton 
Locks  regenerated  !  It  seems  as  if  the  very  mill 
stones  must  give  thanks  to  God.  I  thank  you  for 
the  beautiful  sketch  of  the  town.  Your  church  edifice 
is  everything  that  could  be  desired.  Adieu,  my  friend, 
my  brother.  In  all  my  prayers  be  sure  I  shall  ask  an 
especial  blessing  on  you  and  Clifton  Locks." 


A      PLEASANT     ENDING. 

Three  years  have  passed.  For  that  time, 
till  within  two  months,  the  wife  of  Colonel 
Leffingwell  has  been  in  heaven.  Now  there 
walks  by  his  side  one  in  whom  we  have  all 
felt  an  interest,  Sarah  Chuogh  no  longer,  but 


A   PLEASANT   ENDING.  351 


Sarah  Leffingwell.  The  Colonel  is  a  happy 
man,  and  has  lost  nothing  of  that  heartiness 
of  manner,  that  pleasant,  gentlemanly"  cour 
tesy  that  so  becomes  the  believer.  He 
works  much  more  than  he  talks,  and  puts 
his  religion  into  everything.  Hence  he  is  a 
fearless,  upright  man,  scorning  hypocrisy,  a 
terror  to  half-way  Christians.  It  was  with 
Hager  as  she  had  so  strangely  prophesied. 
Gradually  her  injuries  were  all  healed,  and 
after  months  of  protracted  weakness,  she 
gladdened  the  hearts  of  those  about  her,  by 
moving  around  the  room,  pale  and  shadow- 
like,  yet  like  one  raised  from  the  dead;  a 
monument  of  God's  gracious  mercy.  It  was 


in  company  with  her  parents,  and  with  emo 
tions  too  great  for  utterance,  entered  the 
simple  edifice,  erected  since  her  illness  for 
the  worship  of  our  Almighty  Father.  O  !  to 
look  about  her  and  see  the  happy  faces,  beam 
ing  with  sacred  light  and  to  know  that  many 
of  them  worshipped  the  Jesus  she  loved ;  that 
some  were  there  who  once  loitered  about  the 


352  THE  MILL  AGENT. 

bar  room,  profane  and  Christless,  now  restor 
ed  to  the  likeness  of  God,  and  singing  his 
praises ! 

Guilford  loved  her  at  first  as  one  might  lovo 
an  angel,  but  as  returning  strength  gave  the 
light  back  again  into  the  "  sweetest  eyes  were 
ever  seen,"  and  invigorated  the  graceful  frame, 
he  wooed  and  won  her  for  his  wife,  attracted 
more  by  her  spiritual  loveliness  than  her  phy 
sical  beauty,  which  seemed  doubly  enhanced. 

And  here  we  leave  Clifton  Locks,  a  mighty 
power  in  the  Christian  world.  The  place  that 
boasted  that  once  it  knew  no  church  and  no 
Christ,  has  now  more  than  five  spires  pointing 
heavenward,  five  assemblies  of  worshipping 
Christians  who  walk  humbly  before  the  Lord. 
The  little  Sabbath  School,  for  whose  success 
Hager  wept  and  prayed,  has  multiplied  ex 
ceedingly,  and  her  own  sweet  children,  to 
gether  with  a  little  Maud  Mary  Grande,  hear 
from  her  lips  the  story  of  her  love  for  the  Sun 
day  School,  and  hallow  it  with  their  childish 
affection. 

TO   GOD  BE  ALL  THE   GLORY. 


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